


True Like (or Looks Can Be Deceiving)

by DualWielding



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Co-workers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4789706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWielding/pseuds/DualWielding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt loves his job at the off-Broadway theater. As for Blaine Anderson, Kurt might have to work with him, but he doesn't have to like him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Big House

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published Aug 28, 2011 on [FFnet](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7331749/1/True-Like)
> 
> This story is also available in Russian. It was translated by [Shoich](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3628113/Shoich), and can be found [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/351289). Thank you, Shoich!

 

  


"Hey, Baby," Blaine said, low and intimate. "Tomorrow night? Sure. Why don't you come over to my place around 9:30, and bring the wine... Red, of course." A pause and a soft chuckle. "I know you will. See you then." Blaine hung up and slipped the phone into the inner breast pocket of his navy blue suit.

"Are you sure he's old enough to purchase alcohol?" came a snarky voice from behind him. Blaine turned and leaned his shoulder against the wall, ankles crossed. His hands slid into the pockets of the perfectly tailored slacks that offset his ice blue shirt, open at the throat for a look that was professional, casual and sexy all at once. His eyes roamed slowly and thoroughly over Kurt until he was gritting his teeth in annoyance.

"If not, I'm sure he'll find a way around that problem. He's very resourceful." Blaine winked.

"Yes, I'm sure he is. I'm sure they all are. Do you even remember this one's name?" Kurt dug through the bolts of fabric stacked on the table, with no idea what he'd been looking for.

"Hmmm." Blaine tilted his head, waiting patiently until Kurt's bristling glare came back to him almost against his will. He let an index finger glide across his lips while his eyes looked skyward for the answer. "Alan, I think. Or Erin," he shrugged.

Kurt's fists clenched around a cream and tan striped cotton blend and he closed his eyes, making sure they were directed at the table when he opened them again. "Not that it matters. They all answer to  _Baby_ , right?"

The sneering comment drew a chuckle from Blaine. It was almost too easy to get under Kurt's skin sometimes. "Baby. Sweet cheeks," he said slowly. "Whatever strikes me at the time. There isn't usually a lot of conversation going on." He watched the irritated man twist a swath of fabric like he was wringing a wet cloth.

Kurt was practically snarling and still refused to look up. "Well, would you mind scheduling your sordid appointments somewhere else? I'm trying to work here."

Blaine's comfortable stance didn't change. "What are you planning to make with that?" He kept his expression serene as Kurt's hands stilled, then started smoothing the abused cloth.

"I was thinking maybe a noose." Kurt leveled a bitch stare at the theater company's star performer that should have struck him dead where he stood.

Blaine smiled, always pleased when he could get a rise out of the consummate professional. He'd joined the troupe a year ago and it hadn't taken him long to realize what a witty mind and sharp tongue lay hidden beneath the uptight façade of Kurt Hummel. But, as much as he enjoyed their banter, he should get back to rehearsal. The five minute break had probably ended five minutes ago. He slipped his jacket off and slung it over a shoulder, winking again before sauntering away.

Kurt watched him go, fingers trying to stretch the unfortunate bit of cloth entirely out of shape until he realized what he was doing and threw it down. That man infuriated him. Blaine Freaking Anderson, with his confident, sexy swagger and ridiculously stunning smile, charm oozing out of his pores like swamp slime.

He went to splash cold water on his warm face and looked unenthusiastically at his reflection. Gray blazer, black slacks and plain white shirt. The black and red striped necktie was his only splash of color. His hair was flattened into submission, bangs combed down and over to the side. He felt ludicrous in this get-up; one of many bland, staid, unoriginal, yet totally socially acceptable outfits he'd created for work.

"Porcelain!"

The bellowing of his nickname brought a small smile back to his face. Sue was one of the most interesting people he'd met in New York. Abrasive and often offensive, she was also fair and honest – with him.

"Good morning, Sue," Kurt greeted as he returned to the costumers' workroom, a large, open area backstage.

"There you are," she said as if she'd been looking. Kurt knew she'd only gotten as far as his desk, if that, before shouting.

"How's it coming with–" she waved negligently in the direction of the stage.

" _Twelfth Night_? Everything's on track. Elizabethan era costumes are elaborate, but don't require much original design thanks to the Sumptuary Laws." He shuddered at the horror of a law that would restrict the clothing options of an entire populace merely to enforce social hierarchies. As if it wasn't enough to  _be_  poor. One must look poor, as well. "On the up-side, several pieces from  _Merchant of Venice_  can be reused with simple alterations and–"

"Okay, okay," Sue interrupted. "I don't actually care. What about your part, Marco Polo is it?"

"Malvolio," he chuckled. "It's a great role." He glanced away.

"Don't you have to wear pantyhose?"

"Yellow stockings," he corrected. "I can pull it off, trust me."

"So, you're okay with the part?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

Kurt could swear she saw right through him sometimes. "It might not be what I was hoping for, but - there's always next time," he said with a now brittle smile.

"And if you get the lead next time, are you going to stop coming to work like  _that_?" Sue looked disdainfully at his clothing.

His smile wavered. "There's nothing wrong with looking professional."

"Porcelain." She lowered her voice and pointed her glasses at him, signaling her intent to impart some great wisdom. "Dressing like an insurance salesman doesn't make you straight. It just makes you awful. Let me know if you need anything," she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

Sue could be  _too_  honest at times.

Despite pursuing dual degrees in Fashion Design and Drama, it seemed the real world, the everyday world he had to live and work in, wasn't quite ready for Kurt's exceptional sense of style. Casting directors would take one look and not bother hearing his audition for the dramatic lead roles he wanted. Those that did let him audition would cross his name off when he spoke. The roles he'd landed were invariably the comic relief. Or in his case, the scene-stealing comic relief. The flaming neighbor, the smart-mouthed store clerk, the weird cousin who bursts into song at inappropriate moments. Then he'd met Sue.

She had read his resume, watched from the wings as he auditioned, and offered him the job of Wardrobe Assistant when he didn't get the part. She didn't involve herself in casting. 'That's what I hire directors for,' she'd said. But she owned and managed Big House Theater, and she'd taken a liking to Kurt for some reason.

Naturally, he'd taken the job – he was a cash-poor undergrad, and it beat the hell out of waiting tables. Though, he had reserved the right to continue auditioning at her theater. That was a few years ago. Now he was the theater's Costume Designer with a small team of his own part-time assistants, which was a necessity because Kurt was frequently a member of the cast.

**~*~**

"Porcelain!"

Kurt looked up from the black lace veil he was working on and waited patiently until Sue rounded the corner before replying. "Good morning, Sue."

"Good morning? Is that all you have to say?"

"How are you today?" Kurt added with raised brows. It was no use trying to guess what she was getting at. No one could read Sue's thoughts. He wasn't even sure anyone would want to know exactly what went on in that head of hers.

"Have you noticed the chaos onstage?" Arms crossing over her chest, she gave Kurt a hard look, like she expected him to get right up and fix it. Sue seemed to expect him to fix everything.

"I was told Anderson injured himself and his understudy is filling in. What's the problem?" Kurt's hands were busy again with the delicate lace.

"The problem is the show opens in four weeks and our star is home in bed instead of rehearsing!"

"Viola is the star of this play." A feeling of dread was creeping up on him. "Anyway, what can I do about it?"

"I'll tell you what you can do. Get your sweet ass over there, shove some Percocet or vodka or whatever else he needs down his throat, and run lines with him."

Kurt groaned, his dread fully justified. "Sue, I have a lot of work to do on these costumes. Not to mention my own lines to worry about." He pinched his leg. It was only a little white lie to imply he didn't already know his part backwards and forwards. It was almost embarrassing sometimes how driven he could be.

As usual, Sue saw right through him. That's why she knew she  _could_  count on him to fix anything. "Give your team some extra hours and I'll assign someone to run back and forth with whatever you need as long as you're working there. You can help him rehearse while you're sewing the pieces you don't trust in the hands of anyone else."

Yep. She knew him too well.

**~*~**

Blaine groaned down at the cell phone chiming insistently on the bed next to him. "What the hell do you want, Hummel? I'm in enough pain already."

"Grouchy today, aren't we, Anderson? Cheer up. I'm coming over to cure you with vast quantities of good food and TLC."

Blaine pulled the phone away long enough to look at the screen and make sure he was in fact speaking to Kurt Hummel. "I'm not sick. I have a sprained ankle."

"Good food for the soul. Vicodin for the ankle, I imagine."

"I wish. Try Ibuprofen," Blaine grumbled.

"Ouch. Your doctor doesn't like you? Well, that's hardly surprising. In any case, I'm coming over. Do you need anything?"

"Well... actually, I could use an ice pack. And maybe some Ace bandages? If you're sure you don't mind."

"I live to serve." Kurt had long ago perfected dry sarcasm. "I'll call when I'm almost there, so you have time to drag your lame ass to the door."

The line went dead and Blaine fell back onto the pillow. He'd hardly slept at all and his ankle was throbbing like a sonofabitch. His lips turned up in a crooked smile.


	2. Nursemaid

It was several long seconds after Kurt had shuffled the bags around in his hands to knock, before there was a whimper of pain from the other side and the door swung open to reveal Blaine, standing there in boxer-briefs and an undersized Jimi Hendrix t-shirt that had seen better days. Many of them. He leaned heavily on the door, his unshaven face sporting an impressive black eye, and his hair in total disarray. Kurt's lips quirked.

"Are you coming in, or what?"

"Hmph. One or two minor injuries, and social niceties fly out the window. Which way's the kitchen?" He marched in and, with one brief glance at the layout, headed unerringly in the right direction to set down the bags. When he returned to the living room, Blaine had only gotten as far as closing the door and sagging against it, squinting and biting his lip. Kurt sighed and went to help, tamping down the urge to simply watch. He couldn't take enjoyment from seeing a man suffer. Not even Anderson. "Here. Let me." Grabbing hold of Blaine's hand to duck under his arm caused another sharp wince and Kurt saw that, along with the more obvious injuries, his palms were pretty badly scraped, too. Kurt was almost as sympathetic as he was curious. Almost. It  _was_  Anderson, after all.

The warm and spacious living room – yes, he could admit (to himself) that it was a nice apartment – had a hallway off to the left, presumably leading to the bedroom. Kurt supported Blaine's weight, keeping an arm around his waist for balance, and helped him hobble that way slowly and quietly. Well, it would have been quiet if not for Blaine's muffled grunts of pain. Kurt was the one who should be grunting, practically carrying a full-grown man, and no lightweight for all he was a tiny bit shorter. Kurt smirked. Once there, Kurt wasted no time dropping Blaine's heavy butt onto the bed, so he could get back to the kitchen and put everything away. Refrigerated foods wait for no man, sprain or no sprain, and soon he was piling a tray with the things he needed. When he returned, Blaine was right where he'd left him, except he'd dropped backwards onto the mattress, his legs still hanging over the side.

"That can't be good for your ankle," he scolded cheerfully. "Now, sit up. We need to ice and elevate your leg. Then I'll wrap it and you can rest until lunch is ready. I brought an apple and some crackers to tide you over until then. Where are your pills?"

Blaine opened his eyes to see his disgustingly perky guest looking entirely too pleased with the situation. He stretched his arms up over his head, gratified when Kurt's smug look disappeared and his startled gaze traveled down Blaine's body. His shirt had ridden up, and the tight, knit boxers were low on his hips, showing off sharply defined, v-shaped obliques.

Kurt looked away from the too appealing sight of Blaine half-dressed, licking suddenly dry lips, his agitated voice coming out higher than usual. "Sit up, I said. You can't eat lying down. Have you eaten anything today? When was the last time you took your medicine?" Kurt set down the tray and looked around the bedroom. There were two windows and a set of double doors. "No master bath?"

"Which of those questions would you like me to answer first?" Blaine dragged himself up against the headboard and took a glass of juice from the tray. "No, I haven't eaten. Pills are in the nightstand, top drawer. I took two after you called. And this is a two bedroom, one bath. It's at the end of the hall." He took a bite of apple. "Thanks for coming over," he mumbled around the fruit.

Kurt turned his eyes back to the scruffy patient. "You're welcome."

"What's with the peas?" Blaine jerked a thumb at the tray and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

Kurt rolled his eyes and thrust a napkin toward Blaine's beard-stubbled, juice-sticky face. "The ice pack needs time to get cold. Meanwhile–" He looked down at the swollen, discolored ankle that was now at least horizontal on the bed. "Hand me a pillow, will you?" Kurt carefully elevated the injured leg and covered his ankle with a dish towel and the bag of frozen peas. "It needs to be iced for 20 minutes."

"How do you know that? You've done this before?"

"I've never sprained an ankle. I make it a point to watch where I put my shoes. I looked it up on my phone during the cab ride."

Blaine nodded. "The doctor gave me a list of instructions. It's with the pills."

"Good. I'll look at it while lunch is cooking. Do you like halibut?"

"Halibut?" Blaine blinked at the strange question. "Sure. But we can just order pizza or something if you want," he offered helpfully.

"Pizza? Why would I want to eat two days' worth of fat and carbs in one sitting?"

"Uhh, because it's delicious?"

"Don't tell me you're one of those bastards who can eat anything and never gain an ounce," Kurt said with disgust.

"I guess I have a good metabolism. I've always been kind of energetic... Sorry." Blaine's words said 'sorry,' but his smile said 'suck it.' Enjoying Kurt's glare, Blaine stuffed a cracker into his mouth, still smiling.

Kurt's rejoinder was interrupted by a knock, luckily for Anderson, and he went to answer it, opening the front door to the gofer Sue had promised, along with one of Kurt's assistants. "Hi Jack. Brittany. Come on in. Thanks for your help. Just put those things on the couch."

"I like your apartment, Kurt." Brittany draped a few hangars of clothing covered by large plastic bags over the couch while her eyes roamed the living room.

"Thanks, Britt, but this isn't my apartment."

She looked confused. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I've never been here before today." Kurt gave her a kind smile. Brittany might not be the sharpest knife, but she was one of the sweetest, most sincere people he'd ever known, and she was good at following directions.

"Oh, you mean you just moved in. I like the way you decorated to make it look like you," said Brittany.

"I don't know what you mean." He didn't bother arguing.

"You can tell someone nice lives here. Like a puppy or kitten."

Kurt didn't quite follow that, but he looked around at the tastefully decorated room. Surprisingly, there wasn't much he would change about the decor if he lived here. The actual tenant, on the other hand,  _he_  needed work. Kurt decided the apartment must have been done by a decorator. Otherwise, there'd be dark red shag carpeting and mirrors everywhere. Instead of an abstract bronze sculpture on the coffee table, there'd be a bowl filled with multi-colored condoms. The subtle, beautiful and expensive-looking artwork on the walls would be replaced by framed posters of muscle-bound men posing in front of shiny cars.

Kurt shook his head to clear it and looked through the bags Jack had been carrying. "Okay, Britt. I'm going to finish Orsino's and Malvolio's costumes, then I'll get back to Olivia and Viola. You and the others can take measurements of the extras and start on the attendants' and officers' wardrobes we talked about. Okay?"

"Okay, Kurt. Do you want us to work here?"

"No, Brittany. You can work at the theater. Call me if you have any questions and I'll stop by later to pick up the other things I need."

"Okay. Bye, Kurt!"

"Bye, Brittany. See you later, Jack. Thanks again."

**~*~**

Bandaging Blaine's ankle certainly took longer than it should have, because the man would not stop fidgeting. "Are you okay?" Kurt impatiently stabbed little hooks into the bandage to hold it in place.

"Yeah, fine. Could you– would you mind helping me get to the bathroom?"

"Of course," he chuckled, now that the squirming had been explained. "Come on, you invalid." Kurt helped him stand.

"It hurts," Blaine whined pitifully.

"Tough. I'm not carrying you," Kurt shot down that unlikely possibility as they began their three-legged walk once again.

"I'd carry you," Blaine grumbled.

"I'll remember that. What happened to you, anyway? Did your date's boyfriend show up? Or is this the result of a threesome gone horribly wrong?"

"Nothing so blogworthy. I stepped out of a cab and into a pothole last night. My foot stayed in the hole while the rest of me hit the sidewalk. Luckily my hands and face broke the fall. Too bad no one was recording. I could have gone viral online by now."

Kurt seconded that wish.

"Anyway," he continued, "the cab driver got out to see what happened, and I asked him to take me to the hospital. Then I got another cab back here in the middle of the night when they finished poking and prodding and x-raying, only to tell me to go home and rest."

"That's terrible," Kurt said with concern. "Was your suit badly hurt?"

**~*~**

While the fish sautéed, Kurt nosed around the living room. There was a good selection of DVDs and Blu-rays, including some of his favorite musicals and a surprising number of Disney movies. Somehow, he'd expected a lot of intellectually-challenged action flicks. Or porn. A closet near the front door held Blaine's various coats and jackets, where Kurt was able to put away the costumes. And afterward, he cleared a side table near the window. He could use that as a desk later.

When lunch was ready, he carried the tray and a script to the bedroom. His nemesis was in bed, awake, looking delightfully miserable. "How's my little patient doing?" he sing-songed.

Blaine grunted and sat up. "Feel like I got in a fight with a professional wrestler."

"I'm sure you would have enjoyed that," Kurt replied, setting the tray over Blaine's lap.

Blaine eyed the fish and carrots on his plate and tucked a napkin into his shirt. "This smells great," he said suspiciously.

"Naturally. It's seasoned with cinnamon, cayenne and mint for a Moroccan flavor. I found the recipe online months ago and played with it until I got it just right."

"Aren't you eating?" Blaine took a bite of the flaky white fish. "It's good."

"I was going to eat at the table and leave you to wallow in your pain alone, but if you'd prefer company," Kurt let the question hang in the air.

"Yes, please. I'm bored out of my mind. Wallowing gets old. I need something to think about other than my throbbing ankle."

Kurt left to get his own lunch, and returned to sit at the foot of Blaine's bed, careful not to bump his leg.

"What are you doing here, really?" Blaine asked between bites.

"I'm here to help you, of course. Take care of you. Make sure you don't starve or tumble down any flights of stairs – accidentally. I'm assuming none of your boy toys could be bothered."

Blaine made a derisive snort. "M'sure they'd be glad to if they knew I was hurt."

"Of course they would," Kurt patronized him. "If only you could remember a name, you might have called someone. No doubt they're all very special people."

"Special like you? Are you playing nurse so you can give me a sponge bath? You didn't have to go to all this trouble. I'd have taken pity on you and let you blow me. You only had to ask."

Kurt's usual scowl was firmly in place again, making Blaine's ankle feel inexplicably better. He popped a warm carrot into his mouth and waited for the inevitable comeback.

"In your weakened condition, I'm not sure you could handle a blowjob from me. You've seen my work: my designs, my stage performance. Now you've tasted my cooking. I don't do things half-assed. When I enjoy something, I give it my all." Kurt raised a hand slowly, ostentatiously pointing at his own face. "Overachiever. Comprenez-vous?"

Blaine's fork hung mid-air on its way to his mouth. He felt a little light-headed and his appetite had vanished. Pushing away his nearly empty plate, he slithered under the sheet, sulking.

Kurt grinned.  _Ha! I win._  "If you're going to sleep, I'm going out. There are some things I need to do, but I'll be back later and then we can rehearse your lines." He smiled brightly at the dirty look from Blaine, who'd pulled the sheet up to his nose.

"I knew it," Blaine muttered. "You're here to make me work. Sue sent you, didn't she?"

"I'm going to leave a copy of the script right here in case you need something to read. Try to get some rest." Kurt patted him on the head condescendingly. "You need it. You look like shit."

Kurt picked up the tray and closed the door on his way out, a spring in his step. After cleaning the kitchen, he helped himself to Blaine's keys, leaving a note on the off chance the one-legged man went looking for them.

Blaine waited until he heard the front door close, then picked up his phone to make a call. "Hi, Ethan. Listen, I'm sorry but I have to cancel for tonight... It's stupid, really. I sprained my ankle and I have to stay off it for a week or two... No, it should be fine by opening night... Yeah, I'll call you. Bye."

He frowned at his phone after hanging up. He shouldn't be surprised, really, that Ethan's concern was for the show and not him. Ethan was an out-of-work actor, and they'd been dating for a while, but he still felt no connection with the guy at all. Obviously, the lack of feeling was mutual, but Blaine would have had the decency to pretend to care. He needed to break it off as soon as he was back on his feet. He had a bad habit of trying to make doomed relationships work. Putting the phone down, he took his medicine and decided to get some sleep. When he woke, maybe he wouldn't look like shit. Blaine chuckled at Kurt's less than flattering, though not untrue comment.


	3. Unveiled

Kurt let himself and Jack into the apartment a while later, Jack carrying a heavy sewing machine while Kurt pulled a large suitcase and carried totes filled with sewing supplies, antiseptic cream, and a bottle of wine. His victory over Blaine in their afternoon sparring match had put him in a generous mood. It was hardly fair anyway, since the injured man was in no state to keep up with him.

After seeing Jack out, Kurt took his suitcase to the spare room and peeked in on Blaine, who was sleeping. Returning to his room, he unpacked and selected a change of clothes, then showered and got comfortable in stretchy Calvin Klein jeans and a deep-v Andrew Christian top, feeling more like himself in 'real' clothes. He hated looking in the mirror and seeing a boring, pompous stranger staring back, and he hated the fact that he had to change himself in order to be taken seriously. He applied moisturizer and brushed his hair back, running his fingers through it with a touch of mousse and sighing happily at his reflection.

Kurt hummed while he prepared a simple meal of chicken with vegetables and put it in the oven. Then he set up the sewing machine and started on one of Malvolio's outfits. He'd hardly gotten any work done all day, which didn't sit well with him. As he worked, he went over his lines in his head, putting himself in Malvolio's place and feeling his emotions to better understand him.

**~*~**

Blaine opened his eyes to a blurry shape above him. He blinked to clear his vision and frowned at the stranger hovering over him with a hand on his shoulder. "What the hell?" He sat up quickly, pushing himself backwards on the bed and cursing loudly at the stab of pain in his leg.

Kurt straightened, cocking a brow at Blaine's reaction. He supposed it was the effect of living alone; that startled feeling of waking up to find another person right next to you. Kurt could relate to that. He hadn't had a serious boyfriend in a long time, no overnighters. During his last date, he'd actually dropped money on the table and walked out of the restaurant after the guy started talking about a backstage tour and meeting the cast. He'd had the nerve to ask Kurt how well he knew Blaine Anderson, and that was the end of  _that_  date.

Blaine stared in confusion at the man standing by his bed. "Hummel?" He said it, though he didn't quite believe it.

"Of course it's me. Who else would be in your bedroom? Never mind, don't answer that. Dinner's almost ready and I thought you might like to freshen up." Kurt stood with his fingers laced in front of him, waiting for Blaine to realize his bladder was probably ready to burst and he might or might not have brushed his hair that day.

"Oh. Yeah, thanks." He made no move to get up, still stunned and frowning. "What happened to you? You don't look like yourself."

Kurt flushed and glanced away. "It's a long story. The short version is, this is me  _actually_  looking like myself."

Blaine was staring rudely, amazed this was the same person he'd known for a year. He'd always been good looking, if too serious, but this was a whole different kind of good looking. A hot kind. That shirt looked really,  _really_  nice on him. His hair was - wow. And those jeans! Those legs! It didn't seem right. Blaine looked more closely at his face. He didn't remember Kurt's eyes being that particular shade of blue-gray. No! None of that mattered, damn it. This was Hummel. Forget what he looked like, he was still the uptight perfectionist from work. Just a relaxed, sexy version of the overachiever.  _Shit._

"Would you please stop looking at me like that. Did you think I own nothing besides business casual? I dress like that for work. Happy? Now get your butt up before the chicken dries out and I have to sprain something else of yours."

Okay, it was definitely Hummel. That was some comfort at least. Blaine supposed he'd get used to the new look. Maybe. He threw the sheet off and swung his legs slowly to the floor. Even with the help of painkillers, he knew he couldn't walk. He looked up at Kurt, accidentally stared a little more, then raised an arm so the other man could wrap it around his shoulders and help him stand.

"How's the pain? Any better than this morning?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah, a little, thanks," Blaine replied _._

"Good. We'll ice it again after dinner. Do you want to eat in bed or would you like to try making it to the couch?" Kurt helped him get as far as the bathroom counter, waiting expectantly.

"The couch would be great. I think my muscles are starting to atrophy," Blaine answered with a smile.

"After one day? Your muscles must have been in lousy shape to start with." Kurt grinned, meeting Blaine's gaze in the large mirror taking up most of one wall.

Leaning on the counter with one hand, Blaine used the other to lift his shirt up to his chest and examined the reflection of his abs. "You think so? Guess I'd better start working out, then."

Kurt lost his train of thought and abruptly realized he was standing in the bathroom with Blaine, who should be able to take care of his needs by himself from here. "I'm going to check on dinner. Call me when you're finished." He quickly made his escape, ignoring Blaine's laughter.

**~*~**

After the long trip to the living room, Kurt helped Blaine prop up his foot with a cushion on the coffee table, and brought him a plate of food and glass of wine. "Is there a movie you'd like to watch? I brought  _Twelfth Night_  with me from home," Kurt said cheekily.

"If I must. But you might have to explain the big words." Blaine looked up at him with round, liquid, puppy dog eyes Kurt hadn't been treated to before.

"Umm–" his mouth stuttered, along with his heart. "I– I'll go get it." Kurt walked quickly down the hall for the DVD, then got his own dinner, and put the movie in before joining Blaine on the couch, sitting as far from him as possible.

"Kurt?" Blaine was looking at him strangely.

"Yes?"

"Why was your DVD in the spare room?"

"It was in my suitcase."

"...You're staying here?"

"Oh. If that's all right. I planned to stay and work here until you're able to take care of yourself." Kurt pointed out the covered sewing machine by the window. "Would you rather I didn't?"

"No, of course. That's – I don't know what that is. Above and beyond, I guess. Thank you. If there's ever anything I can do for you, just say the word."

"I might take you up on that." Kurt grinned mischievously.

They watched a few minutes of the movie in silence while they ate. "Think we could do a shipwreck scene like that?" asked Blaine.

"Maybe. What if we put a big swimming pool in the orchestra pit and throw everyone in?" Kurt suggested. "I foresee a problem, though, when only a few come back out."

"Yeah. I don't know a lot of actors willing to sacrifice themselves for their art," Blaine said, putting down his empty plate. "That was delicious. You weren't kidding about not doing things half-assed." Blaine smiled, his gaze dropping unconsciously to the other's mouth.

Kurt looked away, trying not to blush at the reminder of his earlier boast. "Thanks," he said. "I used to cook for my dad. He requires encouragement to eat healthy." Kurt darted a glance and saw Blaine still looking at him. Why was he suddenly nervous around Anderson? They'd been deliberately antagonizing each other for a year. It was their thing.  _Man-whore_ , he reminded himself.  _He's_   _a player, keep away. If he flirts, it's because you're the only other person in the room._ "Don't you have a date tonight? I could disappear for a while if you have plans with Alan/Erin."

"Ethan," Blaine corrected, unsure why it wasn't funny anymore that Kurt thought he didn't know his date's name. "I called him earlier to cancel."

"I'm sorry. Did you tell him what happened?"

"I told him I'd sprained my ankle. He didn't ask for details." Why the hell did he admit that? "We've only been dating a couple of months. It's nothing serious."

Kurt turned to him in shock. "A couple of months?  _Months?_ " He must have heard that wrong. Didn't Blaine have a new man in his bed every week at least? Wait. "What do you mean he didn't ask for details? What kind of relationship is that?" Kurt could have bitten his tongue off. "Sorry. I don't mean to judge. Your relationships are none of my business."

"It's okay. Honestly, I'd planned to stop seeing him." He grimaced. "I should have ended it weeks ago. It's just that I hate telling someone I don't want to see him again, even if I'm sure the other guy won't be hurt. Actually, Ethan and I never should have dated. He's not my type at all," Blaine said, watching Kurt's reactions. His face was very expressive.

"You have a type? I thought you played the entire field with equal opportunity. Open-Door-Policy Anderson." Kurt's bitch voice began to leak through and he stomped it down, biting his lip. Blaine could fuck his way through New York City if he wanted to. It was no concern of his.

"It's possible I might have given you the wrong impression of me," Blaine said, choosing his words carefully.

Kurt was almost afraid to ask. "How wrong?"

"I guess I'd have to say," he winced, "completely."

"You  _wanted_  me to think you're a sleaze?" Kurt was dumbfounded.

Blaine pouted. "You think I'm a sleaze?"

"Man-whore is the term I generally apply to you, yes. You're saying that's not accurate?"

"Not exactly," Blaine admitted.

"How inaccurate are we talking, exactly?"

"My last boyfriend before Ethan, if you can call Ethan a boyfriend, I think he sees other people, was right after I started at the Big House. We went out for a few weeks before he dumped me. Another one I shouldn't have dated. I get impatient sometimes, waiting for the right guy to come along."

Kurt's breathing was shallow as he stared at Blaine in stunned silence. This was not good. He made it a rule to never develop an attraction to a co-worker and knowing, or at least mistakenly believing Blaine to be a slutty dickhead made him extremely unattractive. Take that quality away and he was left with sexy, charismatic, intelligent, funny, talented, gorgeous,  _available_  Blaine Anderson. Co-worker.  _I'm in trouble._

"What about you?" Blaine asked.

"What about me what?" Kurt was still lost in his own disturbing thoughts.

"Do you have a boyfriend? Or a lot of boyfriends?"

"Oh. No."

"No? Do you want to expand on that at all? I just confessed that, far from being a man-whore, I'm actually kind of a dorky romantic looking for love, and all you have to say is 'No?'"

"Y-yes." Kurt's voice didn't want to work.

"Fine. Sorry for unloading on you. Let's run some lines," Blaine tried not to sound hurt.

"No."

"Damn it! Could you possibly speak in complete sentences?" Blaine demanded, annoyed and a bit humiliated.

"I'm sorry. I- I don't have a boyfriend. I haven't had a relationship that lasted past the third date since–" he tried to remember and drew a blank. "I'm not sure how long."

"Why haven't they lasted past the third date?"

Kurt hesitated. "I don't know. I guess I just haven't met anyone interesting enough to keep seeing. If there's nothing left to talk about by the second or third date, there's no point. And my job takes up all my time, so I don't get out and meet a lot of new people."

Blaine was incredulous. "There's a constant stream of new people at the theater."

"Yes, but I don't date people I work with. It would be a distraction. And if things didn't work out, which is very likely, it would be uncomfortable working with an ex. I might end up quitting just to get away from him."

"I see. You might be right, but," Blaine shook his head in disbelief, "you could be working alongside the person you're meant to spend your whole life with. Is any job worth giving up that chance?"

"I don't know," Kurt replied honestly. "I've never thought about it like that. I've never met anyone I thought I could spend my life with."

"Maybe because you're not looking."

"Maybe." Kurt forced a laugh and wiped his moist eyes. "All this maudlin talk is bringing me down. How about another drink? I'll get the ice pack and we'll run those lines now. Okay?" He jumped up before Blaine could protest the change of subject.


	4. Fresh

"Twenty minutes." Kurt checked the clock after positioning the ice pack. "Let's go over the first scene. I'll read the other parts and prompt you if you need it." He picked up his script and the antiseptic, and sat cross-legged on the couch facing the injured man.

Taking Blaine's right hand, Kurt placed it on his knee, palm up, and settled the script on his other knee. He looked closely at the hand to make sure there was no dirt stuck in his skin and found it clean. They must have taken care of that at the hospital. "You've got the first line. Go ahead," said Kurt. Squeezing the tube of infection-fighting cream onto his finger, he gently smoothed it over Blaine's rough scrapes. The heels of his palms looked like they'd gotten the worst of it, and Kurt tried hard not to hurt him as he touched the tender skin, wincing in sympathy.

"Uhm– yeah, the first line." Blaine's voice was scratchy. He reached for his drink, careful not to pull his hand away from Kurt, who was slowly rubbing the tip of an index finger all over his palm.

Kurt glanced up at him, then checked the script. "If music be the food of love," he read.

"Yes! I knew that." Blaine attempted a small laugh, taking another deep swallow of wine. He did know the scene, but was captivated by the sight of Kurt's finger stroking his skin. Although it wasn't necessary to watch, because he felt every tiny motion burning and melting into him. He started reciting, his voice stilted, drawing a curious look from Kurt as he finished the first hand and held his out for the other one.

Blaine could only turn slightly toward him with his leg propped up. He tugged his shirt down and gave his hand over, proud of himself for having no noticeable tremor. He couldn't comfortably reach far enough to put his left hand on Kurt's leg, so he placed it on his own right thigh.

Kurt scooted closer and put a hand under Blaine's to hold it in place, resting it on his bare leg and using the fingers of his other hand to massage the cream into his skin. While he was looking down at the injured hand and occasionally checking the script, Blaine studied his face, and the dialog began to come more easily. "O spirit of love," he said with the quiet passion of Orsino for Olivia. "How quick and fresh art thou."

They made it through half of the scene before Kurt got up to put the ice pack away and dry his damp skin. "Nice work," he said and started wrapping the ankle. "Have you memorized all your lines?"

"I think I've got Acts 1 and 2 down. I'm not in 3 or 4. Still working on 5."

"Would you like to practice that one tonight?" Kurt asked.

"What I'd really like is a shower, but I think I'll have to settle for a bath."

"Good idea. Maybe you could even be persuaded to put on some pants?" Kurt teased, though he'd almost grown used to it by now. He unwrapped the bandage he'd been wrapping.

"Let's not get crazy," Blaine laughed. "I'm decently covered."

"Covered, yes. Decent, I'm not so sure."

"It's a sad day when a man can't walk around his own home in his underwear. If you ask me, it's you who's overdressed." Blaine openly undressed him with his eyes.

"You can save your lecherous remarks. We know the truth now, remember?" Kurt said primly.

"What. I'm not allowed to flirt anymore, just because you found out I'm harmless? Bring on the guys! I'll show you how slutty I can be."

"Too late. Your playboy image is blown. Your reputation lies in ruins," Kurt rubbed it in.

"Dammit. I finally had someone believing me to be a... Uh. What was it you believed me to be?"

"A sleazy man-whore, fucking his way through New York City."

"Yes, that! Now I'm back to being the boy next door. What does a guy have to do to be considered a cad?"

"For starters, he'd have to not use words like cad," Kurt advised.

"Fuck."

"That's better. And now, bath time. The stench is getting to me." Kurt's nose wrinkled delicately.

"Will you scrub my back?"

"Not even a little bit."

"I'm not sure I can wash my hair by myself in the tub." Blaine tried puppy eyes again as Kurt pulled him to his feet. "Owie."

"I could call your mother if you need help. Please do wash your hair, though. It's gone wild." They began their trek to the bathroom, with Blaine moving even slower than usual.

"You don't like my hair? I used to smoosh it down with lots of gel."

"What a horrifying thought. Who'd want to run their fingers through crunchy, helmet hair?"

"No one. That's why I set my curls free from their gelled prison." Blaine flipped his hair with the back of his free hand.

"Good call. Embrace the curl."

"So you admit you like my hair!"

"I don't think I said that," argued Kurt.

"It was heavily implied. I like  _your_  hair," Blaine cajoled, fishing for compliments. "Especially now. It looks better this way."

"Thank you. But it doesn't go with my work image." They'd reached the bathroom, and Kurt started the water.

"Then change your image. Those jeans are nice." Blaine craned his neck to ogle Kurt's pert derriere while he was bent over the tub.

"Are they? A few minutes ago you were telling me to take them off." Kurt turned his head to look at Blaine, not rushing to stand up straight. "Given up trying to get me out of my pants already? You're failing miserably at restoring your slutty reputation."

"Dammit!"

Kurt brought his pain pills while they waited for the tub to fill, then turned off the taps. "Okay, it's all yours. Need anything else?"

"Aren't you going to help me into the tub?" Blaine asked hopefully.

"And expose my innocent eyes to all your naked glory?"

"That's the idea," Blaine confirmed with a salacious grin.

Kurt laughed. "All right, you're still a decent flirt. I'll give you that."

"Yesss!"

"But I'm not helping you into the tub."

"Awww."

"I'll leave the door open a crack, in case you  _actually_  need me. That does not mean I'll come find the soap for you if you drop it in the water. I'm going to get some work done." Kurt placed a towel near the tub.

"All work and no play make Kurt a horny boy," said Blaine, shaking his head sadly.

"There's a simple cure for that," Kurt replied with a coy smile.

"Fuck."

**~*~**

"Ku-uurt," Blaine sang from the bathroom.

"Are you finished?" Kurt answered on his way down the hall.

"Yes. The stench has been dispatched. In fact, I smell fantastic."

"I'll be the judge of that." Kurt stopped just short of opening the door. "Are you decent?"

"Never had any complaints. Some might say I'm better than decent."

Kurt suppressed a pained smile. He should have expected that cheesy response. "Let me rephrase. Are you dressed?"

"Yes."

Kurt swung open the door. Blaine was sitting on the countertop, clean-shaven, with a towel around his waist.

"You're not dressed."

"I'm covered. And I had no clothes. Does my bare chest offend you?" Blaine placed a fingertip over each nipple.

Kurt chuckled, rolling his eyes. "I'll avert my gaze. Come on." He wrapped an arm around Blaine's waist to help him down.

Blaine continued his playful flirting on the way to the bedroom. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun just hanging out with someone. "So, how do I smell. Do I pass muster?"

"You'll do."

"Are you sure? Wouldn't you like to sniff my aftershave before you pronounce me stench-free?" Blaine arched his neck.

Kurt stopped outside the bedroom and turned his head toward Blaine, then he lowered his face to the crook of Blaine's shoulder and slowly sniffed up his neck. "Mmm, that is nice," he breathed near his ear. He grazed his lips and nose along the underside of Blaine's jaw and back down his neck. "What's it called?"

"I– I– I–"

"You?" Kurt prompted.

"I forget."

"Hmm. Maybe I could guess." Kurt took another deep breath under his jaw and darted his tongue out for a little taste, causing Blaine to whimper. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?" Kurt asked softly, his warm breath ghosting over the fragrant skin.

"It's starting to," Blaine groaned.

"Poor thing. We'd better get you to bed."

"God, yes. Let's do that."

Kurt helped him into the bedroom, sitting him down and ignoring the obvious tent under his towel. He casually walked to the dresser and started digging around until he found boxers and sweat pants.

"Kurt?"

"Yes?" Further search revealed a stack of t-shirts, which he looked through as if it was a difficult choice. Mickey Mouse, P!nk, or Gibson Guitar?

"What are you doing?" Blaine pressed the heel of his hand against his crotch, his needy gaze on Kurt's back.

"Finding you something to sleep in. You said you wanted to go to bed." Kurt threw him an innocent look.

Blaine dropped onto his back, a flash of pain shooting through his ankle. "You've got a real mean streak. You know that?" He covered his eyes with an arm.

"I've always been told I have a kind heart. I'm devastated you think otherwise." Kurt dropped the clothes on the bed, soaking up the vision of well defined muscles, lightly covered with hair, and the clearly outlined ridge under the towel. He needed to leave, before Blaine noticed the bulge straining insistently against his own pants. However much he enjoyed their flirtation, Blaine was still a co-worker, and Kurt didn't think a one night stand was worth screwing up his career, tempting though it was.

"Your clothes are on the bed. Don't forget to elevate your ankle," Kurt said on his way to the door, keeping his back to Blaine. "Do you need anything else?"

"Hell yes, I need something else. You'd better get out of here unless you plan to watch," Blaine growled.

Looking over his shoulder, Kurt's eyes followed the movement of Blaine's hand as it dipped down to the bottom of the towel. He hurried out, closing the door and standing on the other side of it, breathing heavily. He heard a low moan from inside, and had to palm his erection, his eyes going wide, feet rooted to the spot.

The muffled sounds continued, growing faster, and Kurt helplessly rubbed himself through his jeans, covering his mouth to hold back his own noises. He quickly opened his painfully tight pants, eyes closing as his hand slipped in and began to stroke in time to Blaine's harsh breaths. He mashed his hand hard over his mouth when he heard his name gasped as Blaine came. Kurt's hips were thrusting involuntarily and he came spilling into his hand, trying not to make a sound.

He moved as fast as he silently could to the bathroom and quietly closed the door, pressing his forehead to the wood. The bathroom still smelled like Blaine and he cursed under his breath. As he cleaned himself, he recited in his head the litany of reasons not to get involved with a co-worker.

The more he repeated his reasons, the weaker they sounded.


	5. Orsino

The awkwardness was stifling as they went through their routine the next day. Blaine looked away without comment when he saw Kurt dressed for work, choosing to have breakfast alone in his room. Both noticed the exhaustion evident in the other's eyes. Kurt had been up most of the night finishing Malvolio's wardrobe, his mind too preoccupied for sleep, while Blaine had lain awake listening to the quiet purr of the sewing machine and wondering exactly how his life had managed to turn upside down in a matter of days.

Kurt left the apartment for a while that morning, taking the completed costumes to the theater when Blaine knew perfectly well that he could have had them picked up. It was an excuse to get away from him. And as if that weren't hurtful enough, when Kurt returned, he was carrying a pair of crutches. Crutches! Blaine was in the living room and at the sight of them felt like he'd been slapped. He must have looked it too, because Kurt set them by the couch and hurried down the hall, locking himself in the spare room without a word.

When Kurt emerged a few minutes later, he had a firm grip on his emotions once more. Blaine and the crutches were gone and Kurt heard water running, the tub filling. He made a quick lunch and left a tray on Blaine's bed, then got to work on Orsino's doublet, trying hard to ignore the sound of crutches thumping down the hall and the pause when Blaine reached his doorway.

Almost five minutes passed before Kurt lost his inner struggle and walked down the hall to the bathroom, closing the door to hold in the lingering scent of Blaine's aftershave. He stared into the mirror, knowing how stupid it was to cry over the loss of something he'd never had, and ordered himself to calm down and get past this. They still had to work together. So, with a determined set to his jaw, he went to the kitchen again to rifle around in the pantry, and a little later the apartment was filled with the irresistible aroma of peanut butter cookies. He hadn't eaten peanut butter in years, but Blaine had a big jar, so he must like it, and Kurt knew the way to a man's, uh, forgiveness was through his stomach.

The second batch was coming out of the oven when Blaine came in using one crutch and carrying the tray with difficulty. Kurt took it from him and silently put two large, warm cookies on a plate, poured a glass of milk and gestured for Blaine to lead the way, pathetically relieved when he moved toward the sofa.

Kurt handed him the snack and got the cold pack to put over his ankle while Blaine restarted the DVD they hadn't paid much attention to the night before. Then Kurt sat on the couch, stared unseeing at the TV for precisely twenty minutes, and hopped up nervously to remove the ice. He was wrapping a clean bandage around the blue and purple ankle when Blaine broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and Kurt looked up, startled. "You made your feelings clear yesterday and I didn't back off. I'm sorry, Kurt." Blaine looked sad and worried. "Are we okay?"

Kurt blinked away tears and nodded, looking down again so he could finish wrapping the leg, and because he didn't know what else to do, but Blaine wasn't finished.

"I think– I hope– you and I are friends, and I don't want to lose that. You're so easy to talk to and you make me laugh. I like being with you."

"I like being with you too." It felt so good to talk to him again. This had been a miserable day, with both the silence and Kurt's own guilt eating away at him. "I'm so sorry for teasing you like that."

"We both got carried away," Blaine quietly replied, taking his share of the blame. "A little harmless flirting is fun, but I'll try not to go too far again. Okay? Um, do you want to run some lines?"

Kurt gave him a happy, if somewhat teary smile. "That would be great," he said with a sniffle. "Sue will strangle me if I don't bring back the best Orsino anyone's ever seen."

"Ha! And when did my talent, or lack of it, become your responsibility?"

"When you stepped out of a cab and into a pothole. Sue ordered me to shove painkillers, booze or whatever else you need down your throat."

Blaine looked at him wide-eyed, then burst out laughing. Kurt slapped a hand over his mouth, belatedly realizing how that sounded.

"You don't suppose she meant–" Blaine choked out.

Kurt shook his head with a stunned look. "Honestly, I wouldn't put anything past Sue. She might be the sneakiest person I've ever met."

The rest of the day was spent rehearsing, laughing, finishing the wine and banishing the last of the awkwardness. Blaine hobbled around the apartment trying to look like a noble, dignified duke on his crutches, gesticulating with them and nearly smashing a lamp in the process until Kurt dragged him to the couch and put the weapons out of reach. They ordered Thai and played the DVD again, with Kurt mimicking the characters, and Blaine almost fell off the couch, hysterical at Kurt's tipsy portrayal of Sir Andrew dancing, badly. Very, very badly.

**~*~**

Despite another late night, Kurt was up bright and early. Standing in front of the closet looking back and forth between work clothes and Kurt clothes, he decided he was in too good a mood. Screw the image. He wiggled into black jeans and his favorite Diesel shirt, and styled his hair, quite satisfied with the results. There's nothing like a good hair day to start the morning off right. Except a good blowjob, he qualified the thought.

He worked for a little while, quietly singing show tunes until he heard Blaine moving around, then started breakfast. He was setting the table when Blaine came in and Kurt gave him a bright smile. "Good morning."

Blaine returned the smile and his brows rose as he checked Kurt's outfit. "Nice," he said admiringly.

Kurt's smile got even bigger. "You don't look so bad yourself. You even went to all the trouble of putting on clothing today. I'm so proud," he sniffed, feigning tears of joy and fanning himself. Although Blaine was only wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt, he made them look good.

"Yeah, well, ply me with wine again and I'll be back down to my boxers in no time."

"Good to know," Kurt flirted and quickly turned away from Blaine to face the stove before he could blush.

"Oh-ho, it's going to be like that is it? Be warned. If you have plans to get me out of my pants, you can expect me to return the favor." His eyes gleamed, roaming down his friend's long, tightly encased legs. "How hard would it be to get you out of those things anyway?" he wondered aloud.

Heart fluttering madly, Kurt caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. "It takes practice," he answered truthfully, sliding a veggie omelet onto a plate.

Blaine hummed thoughtfully, taking a bite of toast and mentally practicing.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder as Blaine raised his hands in front of him, framing the image of perfect hips between his palms and squinting one eye closed. Kurt twisted his body, slapping at some imaginary dust clinging to his jeans. "What is it? Is there something on my butt?"

"Not yet," Blaine said in a gravelly voice.

Kurt laughed and set Blaine's plate and cup on the table with a clatter. "Now, now, Anderson. Remember, we are colleagues. Professionals. Try to control your baser instincts."

"My baser instincts are getting stronger by the minute."

"That is a problem." Kurt sat down with his breakfast. "What do you normally do in this situation?" Kurt took a bite of his omelet, looking at Blaine with those big, blue eyes that had recently begun to tie him in knots.

"I generally let my instincts take over. It makes for a very interesting day." Blaine forced his tone to turn conversational before he got carried away again. "Mmm. Wonderful," he said after trying the eggs.

"I aim to please," Kurt replied lightly.

Picking up his coffee cup, Blaine raised it in a toast. "Here's to your latest triumph." He took a sip and glanced around the kitchen. "Speaking of triumphs, are there any cookies left?"

"Cookies have to be earned, Anderson."

Blaine put a hand over his heart with excessive melodrama. "I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will do anything for your cookies."

"Wrong play," Kurt laughed, "but you get points for trying. And why do you get to be Benedick?"

"Because he's my favorite Shakespeare character and I call dibs!" Blaine declared.

"Fine," Kurt conceded graciously. "We only have two plays left in our Shakespeare season and that isn't one of them. And I call Romeo!"

"What?! If you're Romeo, who am I supposed to be?"

"Tybalt. That way I get to kill you." Kurt stuck out his tongue.

"Ha! You just want to stab me with your big sword. Freud would have had a field day with you," Blaine predicted.

Kurt scoffed. "Probably would've told me I secretly long to sleep with my late mother."

"He had some interesting theories." Blaine politely avoided stating an opinion on Dr. Freud's methods, then leaned closer to Kurt, looking deep into his eyes. "Sooo, what do I have to do to taste your sweet cookies?"

Kurt stared back with pursed lips, deciding to let that one go. "We'll start with Act 2, Scene 4. Then after lunch we'll get serious. Act 5," he said in a doomsday voice that, admittedly, wasn't very spooky.

**~*~**

"Put this on," Kurt handed him the doublet he'd finished that morning. "I want to make sure it fits and it'll help put us in a more Shakespearean frame of mind."

Blaine buttoned up the long-sleeved, black doublet over his t-shirt. "Fits great." He struck a pose, sitting on the couch with his chin in the air and one hand resting regally on his chest. "How's it sit? Pretty cunning dontcha think?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did you just  _Firefly_  me? This is a Shakespeare zone," he made a wide, circling motion. "No sci-fi allowed."

"You know  _Firefly_?" said a surprised Blaine.

Kurt hit him with a look so clearly saying 'Bitch, please,' that Blaine wasn't sure he hadn't spoken out loud. Lifting a hand, Kurt counted off on his fingers. "Nathan Fillion, Adam Baldwin, Sean Maher.  _Firefly_ is a gay man's wet dream and Joss Whedon should be crowned King of the World."

Blaine stared at him in wonder. "I think I love you."

"I have that effect on people."

"What about Alan Tudyk?" asked Blaine.

"He's cute, but too much of a comedian." Kurt's lip curled in a show of mild petulance. "I can just imagine. I'd be blowing him and he'd be cracking jokes about my technique."

"Hnngh," said Blaine.

"To answer your original question: yes, you look hot. The doublet/shorts combo is really working for you. Now quit screwing around. Act 2, Scene 4. You're Orsino obviously. I'm everyone else. Got it?"

"Yessir, Cap'n Tight Pants," Blaine did his best Kaylee impression.

Kurt tried not to crack a smile. "Good man. You get a cookie later."

"Yesss!"

Kurt opened the script and read. "Enter Duke Orsino, Viola, Curio and others."

**~*~**

They got through the scene easily. Blaine knew his lines, and yet he wasn't satisfied. "Orsino's an idiot," he complained.

"Why? Because he can't see Viola's a woman or because he can't see she's in love with him?" Kurt asked.

"The love thing. We have to accept that no one can tell women from men if they don't dress the part, because Shakespeare says so, and they didn't have lasik eye surgery back then. But you, just now, you _were_  Viola and I could feel how much you wanted me."

"Um, good. That's good." Kurt turned away. "The audience has to believe she loves him. They're in on all her secrets."

"Orsino should be more observant."

"He gets a little flirty in spite of his belief that she's a man. He can't get past that, I guess." Kurt cleared his throat. "I don't know about you, but I could use a break from the 16th century." He plopped down on the sofa. "Wanna watch some  _Firefly_?" he asked with a hopeful grin.

"Only always. Which one? Bare-assed captain or shirtless doctor?"

"Tough choice," Kurt chuckled. "I'll go with shirtless doctor. I'm really a chest man." His eyes trailed down Blaine's torso. "You should probably take off that doublet now," he said, moistening his lips.

"And then what?" Blaine asked softly, unbuttoning the costume.

"And then," Kurt said seductively, "you can have a cookie."

Blaine sighed in disappointment. "You're a cruel man, Kurt Hummel. Heartless and cruel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes are from "Firefly" and "Twelfth Night (or What You Will)." I trust you to tell them apart. :)


	6. Viola

"I'm really not liking this," Blaine interrupted their rehearsal to say out of character.

"The last scene is kind of intense with almost the whole cast involved," said Kurt, standing across the room from where Blaine sat with his foot up. He liked to move around while performing.

"No, it's not that. It's Orsino. He's too... wishy-washy," said Blaine, disgusted. "He's kind of a douche."

"Oh, I know. The twins get this long reunion – as if they wouldn't recognize each other instantly, hellooo – but Orsino flips from Olivia to Viola just like that," Kurt said with a snap of his fingers. "We know Viola loves him, but does he love her? I'm not feeling it." He slapped the script against his leg.

"Exactly. What if his 'love' for Olivia," Blaine air-quoted, "is stupid pride talking? Because he thinks too highly of himself to accept her rejection. Maybe he thinks she's playing hard-to-get," said Blaine, looking to Kurt for his opinion.

"Could be. Olivia's been saying all along he's full of shit. Maybe he is." Kurt shrugged. "Tomorrow let's rehearse your earlier scenes again. You'll have to be a bit over the top. Convince the audience you're a phony, spouting a bunch of flowery crap about Olivia while checking out Viola/Cesario." Kurt jutted a hip, giving him something to check out.

"I can do that." Blaine let his old, sleazy gaze make an appearance as he looked Kurt up and down.

Kurt hid his smile. "Okay, let's start from the top of Act 5. Less broken-hearted this time, more like a whiny little bitch when you're rejected  _yet again_. Save the heartbreak for Cesario."

They went through the scene again, with Blaine laying it on thick and Kurt trying not to laugh. "You know what the ending needs?" Blaine got up from the couch with the help of his crutches.

"What's that?"

"A big, hot kissing scene," Blaine stated. "Orsino should grab Viola and go to town on her when he finds out he's been hard for a woman all this time."

The fluttering in Kurt's chest came back with a vengeance. He should see a doctor about that. "It's in the movie, but not in the script, so–"

Blaine shook his head, moving closer and holding Kurt's gaze. "It's stage direction. Viola wants him. He wants her. Why should they fight it?"

Kurt swallowed. "They're surrounded by other people," he reminded.

"That wouldn't stop him," said Blaine.

"It wouldn't?"

He shook his head again. "He wants her too much."

"Does he?"

Blaine nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"Um, would he kiss her or would she kiss him?" Kurt fiddled nervously with the script.

"He'd definitely kiss her. I can only think of one reason she wouldn't answer after he proposes. Her mouth must be otherwise engaged," Blaine said softly.

"Oh. Yeah, Michael might agree with that." Kurt held his ground while Blaine slowly approached.

"Of course he will. Directors want what's best for the show. We'll need to perform for him, really sell it," Blaine said in a smooth, hypnotic voice.

Stopping within arm's reach, Blaine settled the crutches securely under him. "And since you call'd me master for so long," he recited, holding out a hand. "Here is my hand. From this time you shall be your master's mistress."

Kurt took his hand and let Blaine pull him closer until they were almost touching. Blaine's eyes never left his as the hand was lifted, placed flat against a hard, muscled chest. He gasped softly at the racing heart against his palm and Blaine captured his parted lips, his tongue boldly plunging in to taste Kurt. The hand curled, nails raking, clutching his shirt.

Blaine tugged lightly at his arms until Kurt fell against him, then pulled him closer with a hand at the small of his back and one at his nape, wrapping his arms around the other man as far as he was able with the crutches in his way.

Kurt's mouth was being ravished and he could only respond to Blaine's dominating kiss. Both hands were soon grasping at Blaine's chest, the script lay forgotten on the floor and, as he'd sometimes heard can happen, but had never experienced personally, Kurt's knees went weak from a kiss that was much hotter and lasted far longer than the director would ever allow.

After several minutes – enough time for Kurt to melt like ice cream on a hot tongue – a hand clenched in the hair at his nape and he was pulled roughly away. The room tilted precariously and Kurt would have fallen into him again if he hadn't been held in place. He looked in confusion at Blaine, who was sort of fuzzy around the edges.

"Well?" Blaine's voice came out huskier than he'd intended and he swallowed. "Are you feeling it now?"

Kurt gaped as Blaine's lips moved. His lips were fucking perfect.

Resettling his grip on Kurt's hair, Blaine wiggled his hand to get his attention. "Viola?"

Kurt shook his head. "I'm not Viola," he answered breathily, hoping Blaine would speak again – with moving lips.

"You should be. You should have auditioned for the part."

"Uh-huh. I did." Kurt dragged his gaze from lips that looked like they'd been carved by Micheleffingangelo up into eyes that were an amazing mossy green overlaid by so many flecks of a rich honey color that Kurt couldn't decide whether his eyes were more green or brown.

"You did?... Kurt?" He shook Kurt's head again lightly.

"What?" His eyelashes. Men weren't supposed have such long, beautiful eyelashes.

"You auditioned for Viola?"

"Oh. Yeah. She's the lead. Only dresses as a woman in one scene." He had a gorgeous complexion too. The kind of skin that probably tans a perfect latte color.

"I don't understand. How did you get cast as Malvolio?" Blaine was extremely offended on Kurt's behalf. He'd been watching this guy transform into Viola for a couple of days. That role belonged to him.

"Michael," Kurt replied simply, taking in the dark curls surrounding Blaine's face, almost black, but glinting with natural brown highlights where the sun had lightened his hair over time. The man was stunning.

"Why would he do that?" Blaine was confused.

Blaine was still talking. Kurt had to try to listen. "Um, he casts me before auditions. Next time he'll give you Romeo and me Mercutio." The hand was still in his hair for some reason. So it might be okay for him to touch Blaine's hair.

"Why Mercutio?"

"He's flamboyant." Kurt's fingers fidgeted. That hair had felt really silky against his face when he was nuzzling Blaine's neck.

Blaine frowned at him. "Why would he typecast you? You're not flamboyant at all."

"Hmm? Oh. You didn't know me before." His soft, warm neck. He smelled so good.

"Is this part of the long story you haven't told me, about you looking like you?" asked Blaine.

"Mm-hmm. Michael has a long memory." Kurt watched Blaine's skin grow flushed. His own skin was probably flushed too. He needed to calm down. Deep, slow breaths. Think about the play. William Whatshisname.

Blaine was filled with sudden anger. He'd rip Michael's head off for insulting Kurt. "You're a great actor. You should be getting any role you want."

Kurt's pulse was gradually slowing. "It doesn't work that way. I don't get great roles, so I try to make my roles great." The room wasn't tilting anymore. If Blaine let go, Kurt probably wouldn't fall onto his mouth. Blaine was a colleague, and now a friend. Even though it kind of felt like they were living together and should be able to tumble to the carpet right now and fuck like animals. The fact was, they weren't living together. They weren't a couple. Kurt couldn't throw him to the floor.

Blaine let go of Kurt's hair and gripped his crutches in tight fists, ignoring the pain in his scraped palms. He swung away from the man who should be as furious as he felt, but who instead was calmly explaining how he dealt with discrimination as part of his everyday life. "Have you talked to Sue about this? Why doesn't she fire him?"

Kurt shook his head as Blaine paced, angrily stomping his crutches into carpet that looked like it might feel soft against his naked body. "Sue has been like a fairy godmother to me. I love her. I wouldn't abuse our friendship."

Blaine stopped pacing to look at him. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I'm just angry."

"Why?"

"Because he's discriminating against you!" Blaine all but yelled.

"Michael isn't a homophobe. He gives me the roles he thinks I'm best for. And let's face it, I kick ass in them." Kurt grinned. Blaine was cute when he was angry.

His anger melting away, Blaine chuckled. "Yes, you do." He ducked his head for a second. "I saw you, you know. Before I joined the company, I mean. I saw you in  _Newsical the Musical_. You killed."

"Thank you," Kurt said with a broad smile. "Musical comedies are my favorites. I hope we go back to those next season." Blaine was cute when he smiled.

"How do you find time for acting and costume design? Don't you sleep? Wait. I know. Overachiever, right?"

Kurt had the grace to blush. "It's a gift. And a curse."

Blaine's eyes narrowed. "Did you just  _Monk_  me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's a gift. And a curse," is from the TV show, "Monk."
> 
> Possibly I used to watch too much TV.


	7. Follow

The clock mocked him as Kurt looked again. Five minutes past the last time he'd checked. Why couldn't he fall asleep? It was the middle of the night. He'd tried warm milk, and he'd made himself keep his eyes closed for almost an hour. Fat lot of good it did. He would get up and work, except that would guarantee an entire night without sleep. He didn't like taking pills and didn't have any anyway. He could count sheep, but they'd start talking or singing and dancing around in his head, so... no. He could count backwards from 100 – too easy – in French. Yeah, okay, that one.

He'd closed his eyes to take deep, relaxing breaths before starting when a faint, muffled groan had them popping back open wide. Had Blaine's medicine worn off? He could be in pain. The next sound went straight to Kurt's groin. Not a sound of pain then. Not in his ankle.

At the third one Kurt was out of bed, leaving his room to stand in front of Blaine's door before he could stop himself. Apparently his legs were taking their orders from his dick now. Kurt looked down at his body. Yep, his growing hard-on was leading the way.

The next moan was so full of yearning, Kurt's cock tried to leap out of his pajama bottoms. He quietly opened the door before his body could start humping the wood.

Blaine was shifting restlessly, breathing hard as Kurt stood beside his bed. If he'd stopped to think about it, he would have been horrified by his creepy, stalkery behavior. Instead, he watched the sleeping man toss and turn under the blankets for a few seconds before slowly peeling them back.

Blaine wore a pair of loose-fitting boxers that did nothing to disguise his raging erection. His chest was bare and his lips parted as he panted in his sleep. He was caught in a dream, and it was clear what kind. Kurt unconsciously touched himself through his soft pants. He wondered what Blaine was doing right now in his dream. And who with.

He lowered himself to the bed, the better to see Blaine in the dim light coming through the windows.  _He's still a co-worker_ , a tiny voice in his brain reminded him. So why was Kurt reaching out to touch gentle fingertips to his heaving chest? Why was he bending down, curling up on the bed next to him, to lick softly at a flat, brown nipple? The tiny voice was drowned out by the thunderous applause of his heartbeat, his body screaming for an encore. His lips closed over the nipple.

Blaine's writhing began to calm, his noises changing from desperate groans to blissful sighs. The tone of his dream had changed, Kurt guessed. His hand on Blaine's chest slid over to brush across the other nipple. He watched his fingers touch and pluck lightly at the peaked skin while his lips and tongue mirrored the movements on his near side.

His mouth hadn't gotten its fill of Blaine's chest, not at all, but his impatient hand glided down anyway, wanting everything at once. It was unfair his hand could only be touching one narrow expanse of luscious skin at a time, his mouth could only taste a small portion. It would take hours and hours to explore his entire body thoroughly. Kurt's fingers spread out to cover more area, the texture of hair sending fresh ripples of desire spreading from his fingertips inward.

When his nails grazed through the arrow of hair leading down, his eyes and mouth followed. Kurt's lips traced the skin above his waistband while his bold hand continued on, palm skimming over the thick column of flesh pressing against the fabric. He rested his fingers over the hard ridge and dipped his tongue into Blaine's navel, the twitch of his cock causing Kurt's to jump as well.

Carefully moving farther down the bed, he lay on his stomach, grinding slightly into the mattress as his lips touched the long outline he craved so much. Using his mouth to feel his way along, he opened and, like a bit in a horse's mouth, slowly put the shaft between his teeth, closing gently with a sigh. Blaine was so  _hard_.

He worked his way gradually down the length with soft scrapes and light pressure from his lips and teeth, his tongue dampening the thin layer of cotton, hips rolling against the bed. Kurt was completely lost in the feel of Blaine's cock against his mouth, the vein under his tongue. When fingers threaded into his hair, he moaned quietly and started moving back up the shaft so he could pull the fabric aside and really taste him.

"Kurt. Stop."

The quiet voice pulled him out of his dream-like state and his eyes squeezed shut as the tiny voice reared its ugly head again. He unclamped his mouth, his hot, moist breath blowing across the damp fabric before he placed a final, feather-light kiss against the shape he'd been memorizing and twisted away, sitting on the side of the bed. He started to rise and a hand grabbed his arm.

"Don't go," Blaine said roughly.

Kurt turned his head slightly, not looking at him. "If you don't want me to touch you, I need to leave right now," he said hoarsely. He'd only stay long enough to change clothes before going home. He obviously couldn't sleep in the same apartment with Blaine anymore.

Blaine sat up, gripping Kurt's hand on the side of the mattress. "Of course I want you to touch me. For God's sake, don't leave."

Kurt faced him, confused and aching. "You stopped me," he whispered.

"I couldn't keep still anymore."

Kurt's gaze dropped, embarrassment catching up to him for inviting himself into Blaine's bed. "You were dreaming. You needed release."

"Is that why you're here?" Blaine squeezed his hand.

Kurt looked down at their hands for a moment before shaking his head. "I want you," he quietly admitted.

"Thank God," Blaine groaned, pulling him into his arms, kissing him hungrily and dragging him up the bed until they were lying face-to-face with legs and tongues tangled together. When they had to stop for air, Blaine pulled back to look into his eyes, trying to catch his breath, and Kurt reached out, placing light fingers against his cheek.

His thumb grazed over the soft skin in a sweet caress. "You're so beautiful," Kurt whispered.

Blaine gave a short, breathy laugh. "I was just going to say the same thing about you."

Kurt's gaze fell to full, chiseled lips. "When you kissed me today, was that Orsino kissing Viola?"

Blaine's head shook against the pillow. "That was an excuse. Do you know what you did to me the other day?"

"This?" Kurt leaned closer, trailing his lips over Blaine's neck and causing him to sigh, angling his head back.

"You're so sensitive, aren't you," Kurt breathed, licking a path from the hollow of his throat to his jaw, nipping at his skin when a hand clutched his shoulder.

Blaine pulled him closer, needing more contact. "You're wearing clothes," he groaned in frustration. "Why are you wearing clothes?"

Kurt was moving his mouth slowly toward a spot behind Blaine's earlobe. "Because no one has taken them off of me yet," he whispered with another lick, emboldened by the response he was getting. Then, as Blaine quickly attacked his shirt, Kurt found the spot and sucked on it.

"Holy f– you need these off," Blaine rolled him onto his back, climbing on top of him to push a leg between Kurt's thighs and rock against his hip.

Fingers fumbled with the complicated fastenings. "Buttons," he whimpered, letting gentle hands swat his away to do it themselves while Blaine tried to get at his skin from under the hem. As soon as the buttons were free, Blaine pushed the shirt off and tossed it to the floor.

His hands flattened on Kurt's sleek chest, sliding over endless ivory skin to grasp his pants and boxers, drawing them down past raised hips. Blaine stroked his long legs as he pushed the fabric down and off, then stopped to stare. Kurt waited quietly, head tilted as he watched Blaine.

Sitting next to him, taking in every exquisite detail in the dim light, Blaine was shaking his head in disbelief. "You're perfect," he said reverently as his hands retraced their path up his legs, caressing him from ankle to hip. He lay down again, propped up on an elbow next to Kurt, and reached out to trace the contours of his chest. He touched a dusky nipple, each finger sideswiping slowly across. Kurt caught his breath and arched into the touch.

Blaine needed to be closer to him. Stretching out fully over the beautiful man, he lowered his mouth to Kurt's, taking it slow like he hadn't been able to do earlier, when he'd wanted to quickly steal away any chance of resistance. The soft mouth opened for him as he tenderly brushed across full lips with suckling kisses, tugging the pink flesh into his mouth and sneaking his tongue in to lick at the inside of his lips.

With a soft moan, Kurt splayed a hand over Blaine's strong back, tracing heavy muscles, pressing fingers into taut skin. The other hand cupped his face and Kurt slanted his head to the side, deepening the kiss before sliding his fingers into Blaine's hair and scraping his nails deliciously down his nape, making him shiver.

Kurt stroked slowly down his spine and touched the boxers he still wore. He made a small sound of complaint and slipped his fingers under the cloth to explore firm, round curves. One of Blaine's hands dropped to his own hip to push the waistband down to his thighs and Kurt helped on the other side, then bent a knee to lift his leg and hook the fabric with his toes. He pulled them down slowly, carefully, without breaking their kiss.

When the boxers had been discarded, Blaine lowered himself between long legs again and their erections brushed. Kurt gasped and clenched Blaine's hips to pull him tighter, legs wrapping around his thighs as they slowly frotted. Blaine brought his mouth down to Kurt's throat, licking and sucking on delicate skin while his hands pushed under Kurt's back, kneading and trying to bring him impossibly closer.

Kurt was soon panting, his head thrown back and neck straining, hips lifting off the mattress, seeking more friction. It wasn't enough. "Please. Please, Blaine. I need you inside me," he whispered desperately.

Blaine had to pull himself back from the brink. His forehead rested against Kurt's neck as he stopped thrusting and put a hand on the other's hip to hold him still. "I'll never make it if we don't stop," he said roughly. They lay pressed tightly together, allowing their racing hearts to calm. After a few minutes Blaine raised his head to look questioningly at the gorgeous man in his arms.

Kurt's hand ran gently through his hair and pulled him down for a soft kiss. "I want you," he said, grazing his lips across Blaine's. "Now. Tonight."

Blaine kissed him again, hard, and moved to the side of the bed to reach for the nightstand's bottom drawer, pulling out lube and a condom. Kurt took the little square packet and ripped it open, rolling the thin latex down Blaine's cock and encircling him, watching his own hand stroke slowly until Blaine grabbed his wrist.

He lay back down, his bent legs falling open. With a pleading look, he lifted one leg higher, holding his knee to pull it up to his chest. Blaine was warming the lube between his fingers, but Kurt looked so perfect. The way he was spread out, offering himself, Blaine couldn't help it. He bent down and licked him.

Kurt gasped as Blaine laved over his hole. And when the tip of his tongue tried to push into him, Kurt cried out. He was too tight. Blaine pressed a slick finger in, licking at the furled skin stretched around him. He stroked and pushed gently outward, rotating against the sides to stretch him, adding another digit as soft sighs turned to pleading moans.

When that wasn't enough, Kurt grabbed his other leg to open himself more and Blaine pushed in a third finger. "Ohh, yes. Fuck, Blaine," he encouraged breathlessly. Blaine stretched him with one hand while trying to open the bottle and lubricate himself with the other.

Kurt writhed on the bed, knees almost touching his shoulders. "Please," he begged in a barely audible whisper. He let go of his legs to hold his arms out to Blaine. "Now– I need you right now."

He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself, Kurt's legs wrapping around him and hands grabbing his arms. He pushed the head of his cock past the tight ring of muscle and Kurt's hips rose to meet him. Blaine held himself over Kurt, pushing forward slowly until he was buried deep, listening to the shuddering breaths that matched his own.

Kurt looked up at Blaine – his stunning face and chiseled body, the muscles bunching in his arms. He nodded, his legs caressing Blaine's hips as they began to move together. His hands traced up the powerful biceps on either side of him and slid across Blaine's shoulders to his chest. He scraped his nails gently down, loving the dusting of hair, scratchy against his soft fingers.

His hands slid around Blaine's neck and shoulders, pulling him down to lie heavily on him as his hips met every thrust. Kurt's legs wrapped tighter, ankles crossing behind Blaine, and he started kissing his neck again, knowing he loved it.

Blaine groaned at the contact, their bodies pressed tightly together and Kurt nibbling on his neck. His movements sped up and he heard Kurt whispering encouragement. He dragged his knees up on the bed for more leverage and angled his hips until Kurt cried out, his head thrown back and his nails digging into Blaine's back.

Blaine snapped his hips forward, aiming for that spot again and again while Kurt bit and sucked at his neck and shoulder, both of them moaning noisily. When Kurt's tongue swiped across the shell of his ear he swore, turning his head to give him easier access. He pushed his hands under Kurt's back to grip over his shoulders and pound into him harder, Kurt panting and mouthing around his ear.

"God, Blaine, yes – so close," he breathed harshly, sucking an earlobe between his lips, scraping it with his teeth and making Blaine gasp.

Kurt continued licking messily at Blaine's skin, listening as his passionate moans became a chant of Kurt's name, with the occasional 'fuck' thrown in. It was probably the hottest thing he'd ever heard. Then a hand pushed between them to grip his cock and with a few quick pulls he was gone, arcing off the bed as he fell apart.

When he became aware that Blaine was still pumping into him, Kurt dug his fingers into his back, the heels of his feet pressing under Blaine's ass, pulling him deep with each thrust. He dove his tongue into Blaine's ear and he came with a shout, trying to muffle the sounds on Kurt's shoulder, his hips twitching in shallow, frenzied thrusts.

They held each other, hearts pounding so hard neither was able to tell if it was their own heart or the other's thumping against their chest. Kurt stroked his hands slowly up and down Blaine's back, softly kissing his shoulder, his legs eventually releasing their hold on his hips to drop to the bed.

Blaine lifted his head to cup Kurt's face between his hands and take his mouth in a long, slow kiss. When he pulled out, rolling onto his back to remove the condom and drop it into the small trash can next to his bed, Kurt moved toward him, placing a hand over his heart and a cheek against his shoulder.

**~*~**

Blaine turned his head to see Kurt looking more relaxed and content than he'd ever seen him. He moved his arm to cradle Kurt's neck and placed a hand over the one on his chest. Long, slender fingers spread out so he could touch each one, gliding his thumb and forefinger slowly over them.

He wanted to ask what all this meant, wanted to know if Kurt would still be there in the morning, and was very afraid he wouldn't. Kurt didn't date co-workers. He'd made that abundantly clear. Which brought Blaine right back to wondering what this meant. Kurt had come to his room – to his bed. Was it a one time thing? Was he going to walk out any minute and pretend it never happened? He felt Kurt's thumb sliding back and forth on his chest and wished he knew what the other man was thinking.

"You're incredible," said Blaine. He wanted Kurt to know that, in case he never got another chance to tell him. He wasn't sure how to work up to his questions. He couldn't just blurt out that he wanted a relationship. He'd already admitted he wasn't very good at those.

"So are you." Kurt smiled dreamily. "That was spectacularly satisfying," he sighed.

Blaine took that as a sign that he might be open to the idea of doing it again. "Do you think we might– I mean I know you don't usually– and I understand, but– I hope we can–"

"Blaine?"

"Yeah." Blaine steeled himself for rejection.

"Are you saying you want us to date?"

"Not very well, but yes. I know we're doing this backwards, and we work together. I promise you wouldn't have to risk your job," he rushed on before Kurt could have a chance to turn him down. "If it didn't work out for some reason, I'd leave. I'd be the one to quit."

"I couldn't ask you to do that." Kurt frowned at him.

"You didn't. Anyway, I think I'd probably need to get far away if that did happen down the road." Blaine was too nervous to examine the strange feeling that he was setting himself up for something that could have the power to crush him.

"Why don't we try dating first, before we think about crash and burn." Kurt kissed his chest.

"Or happily ever after?" Blaine dared.

"Another possibility," Kurt agreed with a slow smile.

"So, that was a yes, right – to being a couple?"

"Yes. On one condition," Kurt said.

"Name it."

"Never call me Baby. Ever."

Blaine grinned. "How about Sw–"

"Don't even think about it," Kurt said darkly.

"Your cheeks are sweet, though. Round and firm and snuggly. Can I be big spoon tonight?"

Kurt raised himself up to kiss Blaine. "You are ridiculous," he said with a smile. "Let me clean up first, then you can be big spoon." Kurt dropped another soft kiss on his lips and went to wash himself and bring back a damp cloth to clean Blaine. Then they curled up together, Blaine cuddled against Kurt's back, lightly stroking his hip.

"You surprised me tonight," Blaine mumbled tiredly into Kurt's hair. "I kind of thought you'd want to top."

"Why's that?"

"You're very forceful," Blaine replied diplomatically.

"Is that your way of calling me pushy?" Kurt grinned into the darkness.

"I hope I'm smarter than that," Blaine said with a smile. "No, that's my way of saying you're strong and compelling."

"Thank you."

"So, that's why I thought–" Blaine trailed off.

"Have you ever bottomed?" Kurt asked curiously.

Blaine nodded against his hair. "In college. I was dating someone who turned out to be kind of a tool. He had this idea that being fucked by a guy would make him more gay than fucking a guy."

Kurt made a rude noise. "His loss."

"Yeah."

"And everyone else you've dated preferred to bottom?"

"Well, I mean there haven't been all that many, but I guess so, yes." Blaine was a little embarrassed and worried Kurt would think he was some macho asshole who identified himself as 'the man' in a relationship.

"And even though you thought I would want to top, that wasn't a problem for you." Kurt wanted clarification.

"I wanted to be with you any way you'd have me."

Kurt's stomach clenched. "Blaine."

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked quietly.

Blaine's heart jumped. "I... If you want to. I think I might love that."

"I think you might too." Kurt tried to control his smile.

"Modest, aren't you?" Blaine teased.

"When I enjoy something–"

"You give it your all, I know."

Kurt reached for Blaine's hand, removing it from his hip to hold tightly to his chest. "Goodnight Blaine."

"Goodnight," he answered sleepily, kissing his lover's soft hair.


	8. More

Impossibly soft hands smoothed over a beautifully sculpted back, kneading phantom tension from a man who had, quite possibly, never been more relaxed. Arms and legs were spreadeagle on sheets now warm from the heat of his body, cheek flat against the bed after pillows had been tossed unceremoniously aside, eyes closed and mouth curved in an expression of pure, lazy bliss in the muted morning light filtering through the curtains. And behind those closed lids were vivid images evoked by every movement of the man kneeling between his legs.

He sat back slowly on his heels, dragging his hands down the strong back, from broad, rounded shoulders, over jutting blades, thumbs pressing into the valley of his spine and following it to the dip of his slim waist. Fingertips sought and found two small, perfect indentations, circling, tracing their shape until he gave in to their irresistible pull and bent forward to fill the tiny dents with his tongue.

The clean, fresh skin proved too tempting and his mouth traveled slowly, lips and tongue savoring every sweet inch between the dimples and lower to the very top of his cleft. With hands cupping and gliding over hips and taut round cheeks, his mouth stayed put over that sensitive spot, tongue darting into the welcoming space topping the swells of his ass. He reached out for a pillow and pushed it against his side, sliding it under as hips rose into the air.

He'd thought it would take hours to explore this body. Now it felt more like days. No. Longer. Everywhere he touched needed to be touched again. Never mind a limit. He'd keep exploring, and if he ever reached the point where he was finished, he'd know how long it took.

When he moved, it was to glide back up, covering the spine in an unbroken line of soft, wet, licking kisses while kneeling over the prone figure. At the top he was tickled by silky, damp curls and he inhaled their fragrant scent, nosing through the thick, vibrant strands, his mouth skimming lightly, teasingly around an outer ear.

Stretching out to inhale his scent and kiss down the side of his face had the added bonus of bringing their bodies closer, until his arousal rested along the partly explored crease between firm cheeks. As satin-smooth lips caressed a freshly shaven jaw, hips rocked slowly, sliding a hard, supple shaft back and forth over the inviting flesh.

"Kuuurt." The voice was deep and needy.

The gentle thrusting and increasingly messy mouthing along his jawline continued as "Mmm" was murmured against his skin.

"I want to feel all of you. I want your body on me."

Kurt had been on all fours, barely touching, except with his mouth and cock. Now he lowered himself onto Blaine's back, lips and tongue moving to the crook of his shoulder, hips still slowly grinding as his hands touched Blaine's shapely biceps and slid along his arms until their fingers lined up.

"How's this?" Kurt whispered.

"Wonderful," Blaine sighed in satisfaction.

Kurt's hands stroked up and down his arms until he reached for the bottle lying next to them on the bed. He raised his head and brought his hands together on one side, Blaine watching out of the corner of his eye as Kurt warmed the slick fluid with his fingers. Then his mouth found a spot between Blaine's shoulder blades that needed attention while the dry hand pushed between his chest and the mattress to palm his nipple. Kurt's knees bent, spreading and pushing Blaine's legs farther apart before he moved to one side, straddling a thigh.

Blaine sighed when the tip of a finger brushed over his opening. He felt Kurt bite down lightly on his back as the finger pushed in to the first knuckle and his breathing quickened. Kurt waited, kissing his back again, soothing him until he relaxed and the finger slid all the way in, then slowly stroked.

The hand between his chest and the bed moved minutely, fingers trying to curl into him. The lips against his back never stopped touching and Kurt's cock was long and hard against his hip. Blaine was filled with sensation. No one had ever made love to him like this before, slowly kissing and touching him everywhere, making him feel that giving him pleasure brought his lover pleasure. He spread his legs a little wider and let out a soft moan when a second finger was carefully inserted. Kurt was being so gentle with him.

Kurt dragged himself down Blaine's back, reluctantly retracting the hand trapped under his chest, until he lay between two powerful thighs. He watched his fingers disappear into Blaine's body, fascinated by the sight. He scissored them, stretching the tight muscle, then withdrew the fingers to spread his cheeks with both hands and swipe his tongue over the sensitive flesh. He heard a breath catch and leaned closer still, driving his tongue in as deep as he could, thrusting in and out until Blaine began to writhe and quiver helplessly.

When it became too much, and Blaine was whimpering with need, Kurt replaced his tongue with three fingers, pushing in strongly and kneading his ass with the other hand as Blaine rocked on the bed, making noises that drove Kurt crazy. He caught himself rutting against the mattress and decided that was enough prep. He got his legs under him and knelt behind Blaine again, still fingering while he reached for the supplies next to them. He crooked his fingers downward, searching until Blaine jerked roughly and bucked against his hand.

"Kurt! God, Kurt please – please get inside me! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," he repeated brokenly, his hands moving quickly up past his head to grip the mattress edge, hips thrusting between Kurt's hand and the pillow under his cock as he did a desperate crawl on the bed.

Kurt bent forward to kiss a smooth buttock, then stopped stroking that amazing little nub to pull his fingers out. He ripped open the condom with shaking hands and quickly put it on himself before covering his cock with lube and kneeling over him again. With one hand he held himself over Blaine. With the other, he lined up, and then he was groaning almost as loudly as Blaine as he pushed in. The feeling was incredible and Kurt was biting his lip hard, holding back with effort when what he really wanted was shove to his cock all the way home.

Blaine gripped the mattress tightly, pushing backwards towards him. Kurt watched his flushed face as he sank deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed and he lowered himself again, his chest to Blaine's back.

His forehead dropped between Blaine's shoulder blades, his chest heaving. "Oh my God," he said, his voice going lower than Blaine had ever heard it. "You're so tight," he whispered.

"I'm ready. Just go easy."

Breathing hard against his back, Kurt's hands moved to cover Blaine's again, fingers curling between his. Blaine clasped him tighter and dragged their right hands to his face to hold his lover's fingers to his mouth.

Kurt's heart was pounding against Blaine's back and he sucked hard on a bit of skin at the top of his spine as his hips began to move.

With the delicious weight on him, the mouth on his back that would leave a mark he'd have to check in the mirror later, the hands he held tightly, and the incredible fullness and movement inside him, Blaine was in heaven. He pushed back as Kurt's hard length stroked into him and bit softly on his knuckle, breathing heavily over his hand.

Kurt squeezed his hands, pressing their bodies tight, pulling almost all the way out, then pushing deep, grinding against him, trying to get as far inside him as possible. "OhGodBlaine– you feel so good, so amazing and tight and warm all around me," he rambled against the hot skin at his lips. He went slowly at first, with Blaine clenching and unclenching, squeezing him until Kurt thought he would lose control.

Blaine's breathing became ragged. "Harder– harder, Kurt. Fuck, please," he groaned, his hips lifting from the pillow to meet every slow thrust.

Kurt let go of Blaine's hands to clutch his hips. His chest and cheek were flat against Blaine's back and he tilted his own ass higher, pulling out to shove back in at a downward slant. He kept increasing his pace and after a few thrusts found the right angle. Blaine yelled and turned his face quickly into the mattress to muffle the noise, while Kurt did the same against his back.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was a lewd backdrop to their unintelligible words. The thrusts became faster and harder and finally erratic as Kurt's climax built, fire sparking in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to wrap his hand around Blaine's thick cock, but his body would not cooperate and move so he could slide a hand under him. His chest was glued to Blaine's back and his hands held a bruising grasp on his hips. "Blaine! Blaine, I'm gonna come," he tried to say between forward snaps of his hips.

"Yes– fuuuck– Kurt– close." Blaine couldn't form a sentence with Kurt slamming repeatedly into his prostate. His whole body felt like it was about to liquefy into his testicles and shoot out through his cock.

Kurt was barely holding on. His hips were on autopilot, pounding Blaine's ass, and his legs were turning to jelly. He felt it coming and couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. He reached his hands under Blaine's legs. He couldn't get at his cock, barely able to shove his hands past the crease of his hips to grip his inner thighs and rub his thumbs under Blaine's rapidly tightening balls.

Blaine let out a long, stuttering cry as what felt like a tidal wave went right through him to come spurting out over the pillow Kurt was fucking him into. He felt Kurt go deep and stay there, then he was calling out Blaine's name into his hot skin, hips jerking hard against him.

Kurt's heaving breaths blew over Blaine's sweat-slicked skin and his heart was beating a mile a minute, and he felt a sudden and desperate need to be in his lover's arms. He withdrew and got rid of the condom, not really caring if he missed the trash can, then rolled Blaine's heavy, boneless body over onto his back and lay down on top of him, oblivious to the sticky mess. He pushed his fingers into thick, dark hair as strong arms wrapped around him. He felt stupidly close to tears and had to hide his face in Blaine's neck.

Blaine stroked Kurt's back and felt him shivering. He moved a hand up to cradle his head and pressed his lips to Kurt's shoulder, soothing him until he felt him start to relax and there were little kisses on his neck. He cupped Kurt's face and guided him to his mouth for a tender, lingering kiss, tongues slowly caressing each other.

Kurt let himself be comforted, though he didn't understand why he needed it or how Blaine had known. At last he was able to lift his head and look at him, slowly tracing a thumb over his cheekbone along the edge of the bruise that didn't mar his perfect face. "Thank you," he said softly, making Blaine smile.

"Did you–" Kurt stumbled over the question he felt the need to ask, his eyes shifting away to follow the path of his thumb on Blaine's skin. "I mean, was that... okay?"

"Was it–" Blaine laughed, squeezing him tight. "Okay doesn't begin to describe what that was."

Kurt smiled shyly, chewing on his lip, still not meeting his eyes, and Blaine's smile faded. "Kurt?" He watched his lover blush, then his face was buried in Blaine's neck again. He was too stunned to speak for a minute. "That was your first time? Why didn't you tell me?" he finally asked, sad that he hadn't made it more special and romantic for Kurt.

"I didn't want you to think I was only doing it because you wanted me to," Kurt mumbled into his skin. "Because I really wanted it too."

Blaine hugged him again, kissing his temple. "It was incredible. You were–" He stopped, at a loss to describe how good Kurt was.

"Good, great, fantastic, exceptional, award-winning," Kurt offered some options.

Blaine laughed. "Award-winning?"

"Stop me when I find the right adjective." Kurt lifted his head again to grin down at him.

"All of the above," Blaine decided. "You were all of the above, and mind-blowing too."

"Oooh, I  _am_  good," Kurt joked, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Yes, you are," agreed Blaine. "How is it you've never done that before?"

Kurt's cheeks turned pink again. "People have a tendency to make certain assumptions about me. And I've never been with anyone who didn't assume... But you're different."

"If I ever do that, take something for granted, I want you to tell me. Total honesty. Okay?"

"Deal. As long as you make me the same promise." Kurt kissed him softly, feeling oddly shy. "I think you need another bath," he changed the subject to distract from his warm blush, looking at the mess between them. "And I need to do some laundry. I hope that pillow isn't ruined."

"Will you scrub my back again?" Blaine went along with the change in topic, giving Kurt a hopeful look and making him smile.

"You're a very demanding patient," Kurt chastised. "I just scrubbed your back, not two hours ago. I do have work to do, you know. We don't want Olivia and Viola going onstage in their undies."

"Gad, no." Blaine grimaced. "So. Will you scrub my back again?"

"Absolutely. And then we have to get some work done." Kurt twirled Blaine's hair, his lips curving helplessly. "I think the next time we do this I'd like us to be facing each other." He cocked a brow when Blaine broke into a huge grin. "What?"

"My new favorite words," said Blaine.

"What words?"

"Next time."

"I hope there will be a next time," Kurt admitted, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"Then you're not planning to dump me after our third date?"

"That depends. Are we about to run out of things to talk about?" Kurt placed gentle kisses around his unbruised eye.

"We've barely begun to talk. I want to know everything about you," Blaine declared.

"That could take a while," Kurt warned between soft kisses.

"I'm okay with that," Blaine replied. He was so very, very okay with that.


	9. Distractions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Shakespeare. Sort of.

"Dear lad, believe it." Blaine's voice was harsh, his head flung back on the couch. "For they– oh God– they shall yet belie thy happy years that SAY– holy fuck– thou art a man, dammit!"

Kurt raised his head with a disappointed sigh, slender fingers wiping the corners of his mouth. "I don't think Shakespeare wrote 'holy fuck' or 'thou art a man, dammit.' Try to concentrate. You need to be able to focus, regardless of what's going on around you."

"I'll focus! I'll focus!"

"Hmm. All right, keep going," Kurt gave in doubtfully.

"Ohhh yeah. Where was I– don't answer that! Um, Diana's lip is not more– ahAHah– smooth and rubious," Blaine said between short, panting breaths. "Thy small pipe is as the maiden's orrrrgan, shrill and sound. Fuck that, I love your voice," he said, his own voice dropping, hands clenching in Kurt's hair.

Kurt made a warning sound in his throat.

"Hnngh! Don't stop. I'll be good. And, uhh, all is semblative of a woman's part. So close. I know thy– thy– ohGod– constellation– shit, Shakespeare talks too much– is right apt for this– fuck, I'm gonna come– for this affair!" he shouted, yanking on Kurt's hair.

He pulled off with a slurp, pumping his fist and watching thick ropes of come shoot into the air to land mostly on Blaine. He stroked until Blaine was spent, then climbed onto the couch, straddling his lover's thighs. He swiped across Blaine's stomach and grasped his own hard shaft in a come-coated hand, leaning forward with closed eyes. He felt rough hands on his chest, fingers twisting and tugging at his nipples until he gasped out his own release, also aimed at Blaine.

"How did I do?" asked Blaine, seeing strips of blue shining from Kurt's half-lidded eyes a minute later.

Kurt looked down at him, at his heated face and curved mouth, his body covered in their semen. He was so beautiful. "Terrible. Really awful," he replied, still slightly breathless. He bent to kiss a shoulder, the fingers of his clean hand carding into the hair at Blaine's nape. "You're easily distracted. You need to work on that."

"Gladly," said Blaine with a lopsided smile, his head tilting in invitation. "Any time you'd like to repeat the lesson, I'm all yours. Putty in your hands."

"A love of learning. I like that in a man." Kurt nibbled the earlobe he hadn't tasted all day. "Remember what I said about workplace romance being a distraction? I'm breaking a cardinal rule for you. The least you can do is try to ignore me."

"Mmmm."

"Too late." Kurt grasped a handful of hair to shift his head the other way and give attention to the opposite lobe. "You're all messy again too. That happens to you a lot, I've noticed. And you still don't have any pants on."

"Neither do you," Blaine countered, stroking Kurt's bare bottom.

"You're a terrible influence," accused Kurt.

"I'm a great influence. It's almost criminal to cover up legs like yours. You should be ashamed of yourself for hiding them from me for so long."

"You had every other pair of legs in New York ready to wrap around your waist. You didn't need mine."

"Did not," Blaine denied. "Not  _every_  pair."

"More than enough," Kurt murmured, darting kitten licks inside the shell of Blaine's ear until the hands on his rear clenched.

"Yours are the best," Blaine said huskily.

"I can't deny that." Kurt tugged his head back to lick over his Adam's apple. "How's your ankle?"

"Ankle? I don't know. I can't feel my legs."

"Oh. Want me to get up?"

Blaine held him tighter. "Don't move. They went numb before you climbed up here."

"Okay." Kurt sucked along his collarbone. "You know what I noticed while I was down there?"

"Should I be nervous?" Blaine asked lazily.

"No. You have  _nothing_  to be embarrassed about. I was going to say I like the carpet. It's soft."

**~*~**

"That was Michael." Kurt set his phone down on the makeshift desk where he was working on Olivia's mourning dress.

Blaine looked up from the script he was making notes in. "What did he say?"

"They need me for rehearsal tomorrow. They've been concentrating on the scenes neither of us is in, but tomorrow they're doing the garden scene where Malvolio finds the letter." Kurt stared down at the lovely, voluminous black gown, fiddling with a tiny black button.

"Hey," Blaine said quietly. "Come over here." He held out a hand to Kurt, who walked to the couch and curled up in a ball against him. "The real world was bound to intrude sooner or later."

"I know. I've been expecting it." Kurt drew little swirling patterns on Blaine's chest with a fingertip. "Your ankle's getting better and you're able to move around fine on your crutches."

A frown furrowed Blaine's brow. "What are you trying to say?"

"I haven't been to my apartment for a couple of days," Kurt replied with a notable lack of enthusiasm. "I should check my mail and um, I don't know, make sure I haven't been robbed."

"And?"

"And all my stuff is there. My clothes. And you don't need my help anymore. Not really," Kurt finished in a small voice.

With a finger under his chin, Blaine tipped Kurt's face up to look into sad, luminous eyes. "Listen to me. I might not need you here because of my ankle, but I want you here because you're my boyfriend and you make me happy." Blaine lowered his head, grazing slowly across Kurt's lips until he was soft and pliant, licking into his mouth to stroke tenderly across his tongue, then deepening it into a kiss designed to take his breath away, along with all his worries, leaving him dazed and wanting.

He gradually let Kurt come back to his senses with barely-there touches of the lips, and fingertips drifting reassuringly around his face and through his hair. "Why don't you go check your mail," he said between slow kisses, "and pick up more of your things, and I'll be waiting for you when you come back. Okay?"

"Kay," Kurt murmured, with his cloudy gaze on Blaine's mouth.

"I haven't seen your apartment yet. After my ankle's healed, we could stay at your place sometimes if you want." Blaine continued stroking his hair.

"Yours is nicer." Kurt leaned into his hand.

"Okay. I'd still like to see where you live, even if we don't spend the night there." Blaine knew he wasn't being very subtle. He didn't like the idea of sleeping alone anymore, especially knowing Kurt was somewhere nearby. He hoped his lover felt the same way.

"I like it here. You're cute."

Blaine smiled down at him. "You're cute too."

"And you kiss like a nympho," Kurt informed him.

Blaine's brows shot up and his lips twitched as a look of masculine pride slowly came over his face. "A nympho?"

"On Viagra," Kurt helpfully elaborated.

If he were 7 feet tall, with a proportionate dick, Blaine couldn't have looked more self-satisfied. "Now that you mention it, I've always been kind of curious about the little blue pill. What would you say to a three day lock-in with the phones off?"

Trailing a hand down to Blaine's growing erection, Kurt shook his head. "You don't need chemicals."

**~*~**

Kurt worked diligently after rehearsal, maybe a little rushed, eager to get home. With Viola's and her brother's uniforms side-by-side on tailors' dummies in front of him to make them identical, he was kneeling in front of Sebastian's pants, adjusting the length and daydreaming about being in front of Blaine like this.

"Porcelain."

"Oh!" he shrieked, stabbing a straight pin viciously into the pants and narrowly missing his finger as his head jerked toward Sue, standing beside him. "You startled me." He could usually count on her to announce her arrival from a distance.

"Nice to see you so focused... on your work."

His heart still pounding after the fright she'd given him, Kurt looked up at her with round, doe eyes. She had an uncanny ability to guess his thoughts. He rose slowly to his feet, ready to confess everything.

"How's Anderson?"

A breathy laugh and silly grin tried to force their way out into the open at the mention of Blaine's name and he pressed his lips together. He saw her eyes drop to his dimple and she quirked a brow. "Um, good. He's good."

"Have you been keeping him off his feet?"

Kurt knew his face must be an open book. "Yes. I have. He's been very cooperative in that department," he said, tongue in cheek.

"I'll bet he has," Sue replied. "So you won't mind working there a little longer? Until he's back at the theater?"

A tiny giggle escaped before he could swallow it and his head shook in a rapid negative. "I don't mind."

"Good. Then if you've finished your rehearsals for today, you should probably pack up these costumes and head on over there," she drawled.

"Thank you." Kurt grabbed her in a quick hug and was rewarded with a rare smile.

"All right. Go on." She walked away. "Oh, and Porcelain," she paused, turning at the doorway. "I'll expect him to know his lines when he gets back."

He broke into a wide grin – with teeth.

**~*~**

_This feels familiar_ , thought Kurt as they practiced Act 5,  _with one vital difference_.

"What are you smiling about?" Blaine mumbled against his mouth.

"You'll see. Can I just–" Kurt reached for a crutch, still kissing him. "Here, let me– there we go." He leaned both crutches against the wall behind him while Blaine held him for support. "I can't throw you yet with that bum ankle, so hold on."

Blaine looked confused and curious, nevertheless wrapping his arms around Kurt's neck. "Like this?"

"Perfect," Kurt said, kissing him again and placing his hands on Blaine's hips. He bent at the knees, pulling him slowly down until they knelt in front of each other.

"Mmm," Blaine voiced his approval into Kurt's mouth, still holding on as he was lowered to his back.

"Blaine."

"Mmm?"

"You should really keep a bowl of condoms on the coffee table." Kurt was kissing all around his face.

"That would be a conversation starter."

"I'll be–" kiss "right back. Don't–" kiss "move."

"I'm very comfortable," Blaine replied in a soft, feminine tone.

"You can  _Firefly_  me later. Just stay put." Kurt sprinted down the hall and was back in seconds, waving the bottle of lube and box of condoms before dropping to his knees and falling forward onto Blaine.

"The whole– oof– box?"

"I didn't want to have to make another trip."

"Smart thinking."

"Shut up and fuck me."

"Viola!" Blaine cried in shock. "You dirty, dirty girl."

Kurt pinned him to the floor, grinding down on him and attacking his mouth, eating up his moans. The kiss was broken when Blaine pulled Kurt's shirt off over his head, tossing it carelessly aside and taking advantage of his boyfriend's outrage to flip him onto his back.

With Blaine thrusting against him, Kurt forgot about the unwarranted abuse to his clothing. What he didn't forget was to whip Blaine's shirt off and send it flying. His hands immediately went to the loose shorts his boyfriend wore, barely getting them unbuttoned and unzipped before he was shoving them down over Blaine's hips and cupping him through his boxers.

Blaine kicked off his shorts and rose to his knees to tackle Kurt's pants. And he found out Kurt was right, this would take practice. Blaine tugged persistently, trying to get the clingy jeans past Kurt's hips.

"It would help if you weren't between my thighs," Kurt snickered.

"Right."

As the jeans hit the couch and slid to the floor, Blaine was distracted by the tiny, bright teal briefs Kurt wore, with his cock aimed at a point northwest to keep it confined. "Kurt," he said, a wealth of meaning in the word as he reached out for a two-handed grope.

"Boxers won't fit under those jeans," Kurt explained. "You like?

"I fucking love," Blaine growled, bending to mouth over his straining dick while Kurt's fingers tangled in his hair.

"Blaine," he whined a little later, when lips and tongue kept trying to get at him through the fabric. Blaine took the hint and yanked them off, sinking down onto his aching cock. Kurt gripped his hair tighter, reflexively lifting his hips. "Sweet Lady Jane," he rasped, engulfed in Blaine's warm, wet mouth.

All movement stopped for a second, followed by a bizarre, not unpleasant feeling as Blaine chuckled. Kurt curled up to look at him, pulling Blaine's head back just enough to meet his eyes. "Hey. Are you laughing at me? Do you really think this is the time?" The laughter around his dick became more pronounced and Kurt flopped back to the floor, releasing fists full of curls to drop his hands to his sides dejectedly.

Blaine climbed up Kurt's body, taking time to appreciate the creamy, delectable skin with his mouth until he could look into his pouty, disappointed face. "Problem?" he asked innocently before sucking at a pulse point on Kurt's throat.

"Cockblock."

Blaine shook slightly before choking back his laughter. "Never. What'll you have tonight? Do you want to be sucked or fucked?"

"I was hoping both. Until my boyfriend found me funny instead of sexy."

"You are all kinds of sexy, Kurt. When you're funny, you're sexier than ever."

"And yet you aren't sucking my dick," Kurt pointed out. Not to be argumentative or anything. He just thought he'd mention it. Casually. In passing.

"Am I not? Let me fix that right now." Blaine slid down between his legs, licking a path from his collarbone to his throbbing, neglected cock and swirling his tongue around the head before taking him deep.

Kurt was reduced to a shaking, mewling mess embarrassingly fast with Blaine trying to pull the come from his balls by sheer force. "Blaine! Blaine– fuck! Stop stop stop. I want your cock," he whimpered, hands once again clutching thick hair, while Blaine's head moved over him at a pace that would end this much too soon. He tugged, getting his lover to slow with a throaty complaint that had Kurt's eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Please," he breathed, ready to change his mind and beg Blaine to finish him off.

Kurt had to bite his tongue when Blaine stopped sucking to lick the tip. He looked down to see dark, lust blown eyes staring back at him, tongue laving across Kurt's cock, swollen lips smiling when it twitched against his mouth. Kurt's head dropped back to the floor. If he watched any more of that he'd be done.

Blaine sat up to get rid of his boxers and rip open a condom.

"Give me one too, please," Kurt said, breathing heavily and holding out a hand. He looked at Blaine again, who was slightly puzzled and slowly stroking his dick while he watched Kurt roll on a condom. "I don't want to make a mess," Kurt quipped before flipping over onto his stomach and pulling his knees up under him. With his smiling face against the carpet, he presented his backside high in the air.

"Fuck, Kurt," Blaine groaned, kneeling behind him to stroke his hands over firm, milky white mounds and down the backs of lean thighs. "Your ass is a work of art." He lubed himself while Kurt's hips wiggled invitingly, and wasted no time opening his boyfriend up with his fingers and sucking a hickey onto a taut cheek until Kurt was rocking against him.

"Blaine, Blaine, fuck me, please," he panted, his arms stretching past his head to touch the couch. Kurt released a deep groan as Blaine's cock pushed past the tight entrance and slid slowly into him. "Ohh, yes."

Blaine's chest ached as he looked down at Kurt with his face against the floor, his cheeks flushed and his back rising and falling with each heaving breath. Blaine pulled back slowly and stroked into him again, sliding in and out, feeling the drag of tight muscle surrounding his cock as Kurt sighed audibly. Blaine wanted to hold him, to kiss him, taste him, make love to him slowly and fuck him hard. He wanted to listen to Kurt's sweet voice as he joked, or hummed show tunes, or explained how to make authentic looking costumes, or begged Blaine to suck him. He wanted everything with this man and it scared him. Blaine knew he was ready to fall in love. Too ready to trust himself not to rush headlong into it. He had to be patient and open-minded to the possibility that this was all too good to be true. Kurt was too perfect to be real.

"Blaine." His name was tenderly whispered, the sound going straight to his heart, his mind filling in the rest of that sentence with words he had to bite back. He forced away the emotions welling up in his throat and concentrated on making Kurt scream. His nails raked up and down Kurt's back, then he gripped his hips and thrust harder.

Kurt flattened his hands against the couch to hold himself steady against the onslaught of Blaine driving into him, every forward crack of his hips knocking breathy words, groans and half-spoken syllables from Kurt's lips. He couldn't get enough of his amazing lover, was beginning to feel there was no such thing as enough when it came to Blaine. "God, Blaine!" he cried breathlessly when a hand circled him, gripping the base of his cock, twisting his fist and swiping over the head with his thumb as he quickly stroked. The condom diminished some of the intensity; not enough to keep Kurt from shouting as he came.

Blaine felt him go lax in his grip, his legs starting to slide out from under him, and grasped the pale hips again tightly, holding Kurt in place for his last violent thrusts, desperate to be inside him, but instantly needing to pull out so he could slam in again, until he plunged deep a final time, shuddering helplessly.

**~*~**

"We really need to finish that scene one of these days," Kurt sighed contentedly, lying on his back while they cuddled on the couch.

Blaine's head was on Kurt's shoulder, a hand gliding slowly over his smooth skin. "Is there more?"

"I'm afraid so," he replied with a soft chuckle. "You'll also have to remember to lay off the nympho kisses onstage."

"That's easy. You're the only one who brings out my inner nympho."

"Glad to hear it. I have a feeling I might be the jealous type."

"You're not sure?" Blaine looked up at him curiously.

"It's never been an issue before." Kurt wondered if maybe he'd said too much.

Blaine didn't press him. He understood. He didn't want to think about Kurt being with anyone else either. Rising up on an elbow, Blaine leaned over to kiss his chest and slowly lick a pink nipple. His fingers trailed upward to rub in circles over Kurt's breastbone and he began to poke at him gently.

Kurt looked down at Blaine, who continued poking him. "What are you doing?" he asked, smiling at the look of concentration on his boyfriend's face.

"Counting the hairs on your chest. Hold still, I'm almost finished. Twenty, twenty-one–"

"Oh!" Kurt exclaimed, jabbing Blaine sharply in the ribs and making him jump.

"Hey! No tickling! Crap, I lost count. Now I have to start all over."

Kurt flipped over onto Blaine, holding his hands above his head and kissing him senseless.

Blaine wove their fingers together and let Kurt have his way. He couldn't think of anywhere else he'd rather be.


	10. Warnings

He checked carefully, leaning out to look straight down before stepping foot out of the cab. Kurt stood on the curb, having quickly hopped out on the other side, and was now silently laughing.

"All clear. Come on out, chicken."

"I'm not chicken. I've simply learned to be cautious." Blaine picked up his crutches and climbed out while Kurt paid the driver.

"Tomato, tomahto," Kurt waved off his argument. He resettled the costumes slung over his shoulder and looked at Blaine. "Ready?"

"I haven't been gone that long. I think I can handle it."

Kurt's eyes softened. "A lot can happen in a short time," he said quietly, cupping Blaine's jaw and leaning close to press his lips to his boyfriend's, then stepping quickly back and glancing around. "We're going to keep this quiet, right?"

"If that's what you want." Blaine wasn't at all confident that he could keep his eyes and hands off of his extremely hot boyfriend all day every day. He would try, though, for Kurt's sake.

Blaine was welcomed back with a bit of cheering and plenty of jokes at his expense while Kurt went straight to his desk. It was obvious he was starting to freak out a little, fearing he'd fallen behind in his work. Even more obvious was the director's relief when his half-hearted, "Are you okay to work?" was answered with an unequivocal affirmative. He was more than ready to jump immediately into the first scene.

"Michael, can I talk to you first? Privately?" Blaine stopped him before everyone could be called to their marks.

"Of course. Pull up a chair." Michael indicated the audience seating. "Can you handle the stairs?"

"I think so." Blaine maneuvered safely, albeit slowly, down the steps at the side of the stage.

"What's up?" Michael asked once they were seated.

"It's Orsino." He explained the approach he and Kurt had come up with during their rehearsals, leaving out his personal opinion of the character's resemblance to a feminine cleansing product and their extensive practice of a potential kissing scene. Michael was hesitant, but willing to see what Blaine could do with the role before deciding.

"Okay then. If that's all." Michael started to get up.

"Wait. There's one other thing, actually." Despite his very real concern about overstepping, Blaine was determined to get this off his chest.. "It's about Kurt. I understand he auditioned for Viola."

"Yes?" Michael replied unhelpfully.

"I wondered why you cast him as Malvolio." Blaine kept the question light, with no trace of accusation.

"Malvolio's a difficult role. Done wrong he'd come off as an ass. Done right he might be the funniest character in the play. Kurt's our strongest comedic actor. I know he can handle it."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be great. And he'd have been a great Viola too."

Michael shrugged. "Probably. What's your point?"

Blaine's hand curled into a fist, thankfully out of sight of the director. "Have you ever given Kurt a role he auditioned for?"

"He always goes out for the lead," Michael said, as if that explained everything. "Not usually the female lead, but..."

"And you never give him the lead?" Blaine willed the man to stop and think about his own words.

"The lead isn't usually the funny guy. Not in the plays we've done anyway." Michael looked confused by Blaine's persistence after he'd already explained.

"Kurt's an actor. Not a comedian." Blaine kept his tone neutral while trying to hold on to his temper.

"He's a pro. He'll take the part he's given. Why are you pushing this? You usually audition for the same roles."

"If Kurt's better, he should get the part," Blaine shrugged. That was just good sense.

"And who'd be our comic relief? You? Look at it this way. If this were a baseball team and Kurt was my best shortstop, would I put him on 2nd? Sure, he might do great on 2nd. Meanwhile the new shortstop costs us the game. Kurt has a way with the audience. He makes them laugh and they love him. He puts butts in seats."

Blaine's anger quickly dissipated as he listened to Michael sing Kurt's praises. However, that didn't solve the problem. "Thank you for explaining. I think I understand now. There's something you should keep in mind, though. Kurt really wants a dramatic role. Look at it this way," Blaine used the director's own metaphor against him. "Would you rather have him occasionally play 2nd, or find another team? If he can't get what he needs here, he might look for it somewhere else."

"Now you sound like my ex-wife."

Blaine smiled. "Ex being the operative word there."

"Has he said something about leaving?" Michael looked mildly panicked.

"No, nothing. I think his loyalty to Sue keeps him here, but who knows how far that will go if he gets an offer from another theater. If you give him a chance, he might surprise you."

Michael looked lost in thought as Blaine made his way back to the steps. He felt better now.

**~*~**

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Kurt asked again.

"It's fine, Kurt." Maggie took his hand and smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure I could pick up a few tips from your Viola. Just try not to show me up too badly."

"No worries there. You're fabulous. Anyway, this is about Orsino. I think you'll like Blaine's take on him."

"I hope so," said Maggie. "I'm not sure what Viola's supposed to see in that guy, mooning over another woman all the time. I would've told him to get over himself a long time ago."

From the corner of his eye he saw Blaine hop-step out onstage using a single crutch and waving Kurt over. The nervous man squeezed Maggie's hand and went to take his place as Viola/Cesario. Other cast members joined them for the scene they'd chosen from Act 2 and Michael gave them the go-ahead.

Blaine faced downstage and delivered Orsino's self-pitying lines like a true drama queen, casting furtive glances at his attendants to be sure they were paying attention. Everyone knew servants were gossips. That was how most news traveled. He was demanding a song, politely, but melodramatically, until someone replied that the singer wasn't there and Blaine's demeanor abruptly changed. In a normal voice he asked who the singer was, then, seeming to remember himself, schooled his features back into the forlorn, heartsick creature he wanted Olivia to hear about.

Kurt watched and waited until he was summoned. Then Blaine wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close and making personal comments verging on inappropriate, and later in the scene he sent everyone away except Kurt, droning on and on about Olivia. Typical.

Moving toward the audience, Kurt turned his back to Blaine, who looked down, his head slowly tilting to the side with a look of confused lust growing on his face. Kurt delivered a flawless portrayal of Viola, hinting at a secret love for the clueless Orsino, who was currently inspecting his ass, then spun to face him again and Blaine instantly and guiltily looked away, putting the woeful look back on with obvious effort. Kurt heard soft laughter from the front row. Michael seemed to be enjoying Blaine's campy performance.

At the end of the scene, the actors took their bows to the applause of their audience. Then Blaine went off to get his other crutch and take his meds while Kurt went down the steps to see Michael.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he said.

"Of course, Kurt," the director replied absently while flipping through the script, making notes.

"It's Blaine. I mean it's about his ankle." Kurt tried not to sound as concerned as he was, keeping his worried voice at the level of one colleague looking out for another.

"What about it?"

"He needs to stay off his feet or it won't heal. He won't recover in time for opening night." He spoke in a language he knew Michael would understand. "He should have a chair onstage for rehearsals. Unless you'd like Duke Orsino to be on crutches when the curtain goes up."

"No, we don't want that. He can sit."

"Thank you."

"Kurt."

"Yes?"

"You were really good up there." The director stopped scribbling to look at him. "You'd have made an excellent Viola. Tall, but excellent." He gave Kurt a friendly grin.

Kurt was taken aback by the compliment and the grin. Michael was usually all business. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

"You're a terrific Malvolio too. Very versatile. I wish I had a few more like you."

Kurt was speechless and wondered if Michael was feeling unwell. The director went back to work on the script, essentially dismissing him, and Kurt walked away shaking his head in a state of happy confusion.

**~*~**

Blaine took his meds, ready to grit his teeth through the ache and hoping his ankle didn't swell up again. When he got back to the side of the stage, Kurt was dragging a big, comfy chair from the other side, carefully adjusting the position and angle, ensuring Blaine could see and be seen without getting up. Then he dashed offstage again, soon returning with a small stool and cushion from the prop room. Blaine watched his every move as Kurt fussed over the arrangement. He was unbelievably and effortlessly sexy. When he'd finished, he nodded once in satisfaction before glancing up, catching Blaine's eye.

They stared intently at each other and Blaine made a subtle motion with his head for Kurt to follow him. He found a quiet corner and turned to see his boyfriend rapidly bearing down on him. "Kurt," Blaine said warningly, unhappy that the warning actually stopped him. He didn't want to keep this a secret. He'd have loved for Kurt to grab him and kiss him in front of everyone.

Kurt seethed with frustration. His lover was standing a few feet away, looking devastatingly hot, and he wasn't allowed to touch him. It had seemed like a good idea last night when they were lying in bed, snuggling and talking after making love; and again this morning as Kurt helped him bathe and dress after making love. He'd stood directly in front of Blaine, tying his tie for him, calmly explaining that it would be best all around if they kept their personal and professional lives separate. Blaine had promised to behave, then promptly kissed him in that way he had that made Kurt want to shove him against the nearest flat surface and fuck his brains out.

He didn't think they'd be able to concentrate at work if they allowed themselves to touch. And he was right. One look from Blaine and Kurt had forgotten where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. What the hell  _was_  he supposed to be doing? Other than dropping to his knees and unzipping Blaine's slacks with his teeth?

"Kurt," Blaine sent another low warning toward his boyfriend, standing still and silent a few feet away, with his gaze boring into Blaine's crotch. Sinfully dark blue eyes flew back to his and he was stunned by their naked hunger. "Kurt," he whispered roughly. "Tell me what you want."

Kurt moved slowly closer, keeping just out of reach. "I want your cock in my mouth," he said, staring straight into Blaine's eyes. "I want to lick every inch of you up and down. I want to rub my cheek against your shaft and roll your balls on my tongue, and I want to feel your hot, hard dick sliding down my throat."

Though Kurt's husky voice was barely audible, Blaine heard every word. They sizzled into his brain and set fire to his blood. He was rock hard before Kurt finished speaking. And he was still rock hard when Kurt took a deep breath, regaining his composure, buttoning his jacket to cover his arousal and stepping forward to button Blaine's with a promise in his eyes that they'd continue this later. Then he turned and walked away.

Blaine didn't move. His pulse couldn't begin to slow until Kurt's swaying hips were out of sight. He'd been asking if Kurt wanted to drop the secrecy. He hadn't been prepared for the answer he got. He tried to get his mind off the images his lover had planted firmly in his head, desperately reciting Shakespeare in his mind and trying not to remember the heat of Kurt's mouth on his cock. He was still standing there, hard-on finally receding, when Jack ran over to tell him Sue wanted to see him in her office.

**~*~**

She was on the phone when he tapped lightly at her open door and she waved him to a seat.

"Yes, Your Excellency. I'll keep an eye out," she was saying. "In fact, I might know just the man." Blaine felt strangely nervous that she looked at him during that last statement.

"Yes, Your Excellency... Okay. Love to the wives and babies. Take care."

After hanging up, Sue laced her fingers on top of her desk, watching Blaine until he cleared his throat as if to speak.

"That was my dear friend Pasha Fajoole of Omanigarden," she calmly informed him.

Blaine was quietly skeptical, too polite to mention his doubt about that being a real country.

"He calls me now and then, when his harem needs a new eunuch," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Blaine's jaw dropped.

"You're probably wondering why I called you in here."

He made an effort to form a response. Unnecessarily, as it turned out, since she cut him off before he could make a sound.

"It occurred to me that you and I have never really gotten to know each other." Sue leaned back comfortably in her chair.

When she didn't continue, Blaine took that as his cue. "What would you like to know?"

"Nothing. I have your social security number. That's all I need. No, I thought  _you_  might like to know a few things about  _me_."

"Well, I–"

"For instance, you might be interested to know I'm not originally from the U.S. And I have diplomatic immunity."

"I don't–"

"And I come from a very tight-knit family. The kind who would do anything for each other, no questions asked. My uncle and I are quite close. He's a taxidermist. Highly specialized. Does a lot of work in New Jersey."

"Uh–"

"How's the leg?" She smoothly changed the subject. "I understand Porcelain took very good care of you."

 _In bed_ , Blaine mentally completed the sentence. "He's amazing. I don't know how I would have managed. Thank you for letting him work at my apartment."

"He's a good man, that Porcelain. Always been like a big brother to me. Family."

"Big–"

"Absolutely irreplaceable around here. One of a kind. Not like some of the dime-a-dozen actors we get passing through," she said.

"Wha–"

"They show up, put on a few plays and then poof, they're gone. Vanished. Just like that. Never to be heard from again."

"Um–"

"Well, I think that's enough sharing for one day. I'm sure you have a lot of rehearsing to catch up on."

He sat in stunned silence for a few seconds while Sue put on her glasses and proceeded to do some paperwork, ignoring him completely. Not sure what to make of the mostly one-sided conversation, he pulled himself to his feet and headed for the stage.

**~*~**

"You've done a wonderful job. These costumes are perfect." Kurt beamed at his assistants, causing a murmur of delight to pass among the three ladies. Although Kurt never had a harsh word for them, he wouldn't accept flawed work either. If there was a problem with a costume, he'd simply explain what was wrong and how to fix it.

"Keep it up and let me know when the rest is finished." They went back to what they'd been doing. "Brittany," Kurt said, stopping the blonde as she walked away. "Thanks again for all your help while I was out."

"Anything for you, Kurt. You're the best boss in the world."

"I don't know about that, but thanks anyway." Kurt was flattered. The compliment may have been overstated, but she seemed sincere.

"No, you are," said Brittany seriously. "My old bosses would yell. You're always nice and you never make anyone feel stupid."

"Of course not, Brittany. I don't think anyone is stupid, and I like working with you. You did a really good job on Maria's outfits. We still need wardrobes for Clown and Antonio. Think you can handle those while I take care of Toby and Andrew?"

"Yes." She clapped at being entrusted with so much responsibility.

"Great. Just let me know if you need any help," Kurt said with a smile.

"Are you going to work at home again?"

"I'll probably be here most of the day and put in the rest of my hours at home for a couple of weeks, until Blaine is better," Kurt replied.

"I saw him today. I think someone hurt him," Brittany confided, looking concerned.

"No, he just sprained his ankle. I've been staying home to take care of him." Kurt's face became heated.

"You're so nice," Brittany sighed. "He's nice too. If he wasn't gay, I'd hit that."

"Brittany!" Kurt choked out, torn between being scandalized and laughing his butt off.

"Oh! I just had the best idea." Her eyes got huge and she placed a hand on his arm. " _You_  should ask him out, because you both like boys and you're both super hot."

"I– we–" Kurt stuttered to a halt. He hated lying and hadn't taken into consideration that he might have to. Keeping a secret from people who were not personally involved didn't feel like lying, but this was approaching dangerous territory. "I'll think about it," he hedged, hoping to drop the subject.

Brittany smiled from ear to ear, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "You would have a boyfriend! You think he's hot, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose he is." A deeper blush slowly crept into his face.  _That_  had felt like a lie. A more truthful answer would have been something like, 'He's so hot, he sets my pants on fire.'

"Do you want me to talk to him? I could tell him he should date you because you're so nice and sweet like a fluffy kitten, and you'd go out for dinner or something and then you guys could totally do it!"

"Brittany!"

"Porcelain!"

Kurt waved Brittany away and turned, hoping in vain his face wasn't as red as it felt as his boss came through the doorway. "Hi, Sue."

"Welcome back," she said with a knowing look.

"Thanks," said Kurt.

"I had a little talk with your patient this morning."

If any of the heat had left his cheeks he was sure it came flooding back instantly. He wanted to run to Blaine and find out what she'd said to him. "Oh?" he replied, finding himself at a loss for words. An unfamiliar feeling.

"He's not very chatty, is he?" Sue commented.

"He's not? Maybe his ankle was hurting. I should check on him." Kurt started to turn away.

"Porcelain." Her quiet voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Yes?"

"Don't let him overdo it. I'm counting on you to get him better before we open. I know you're the man for the job. If he's in pain, take him home and get him horizontal."

Surprise made him burst out laughing. "I will. Thank you, Sue. You really are the best. May I hug you again?"

"Let's not make a habit of that. You'll have people thinking they're allowed to touch me."


	11. Worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks (to very recent memories) are in italics.

A shiver rippled through Kurt; tiny prickles of sensation making baby fine hair all over his body stand on end. Teeth tugged gently at his nipple and his hand tightened in the silken hair of his lover lying over him, languidly touching and tasting him in the aftermath.

"Talk to me," Blaine's soft demand teased across the puckered nubbin currently under his lips, followed immediately by a slow, thorough swipe of his tongue. His clothes were strewn around the bedroom, and Kurt's left a trail through the apartment where he'd dropped them with a lack of concern that was unprecedented.

_~His tie was off by the time they reached the front door. Unlocking it while his mouth remained firmly attached to Blaine's was challenging, but doable. Getting to the bedroom wasn't the mad dash he'd have liked. However, it provided time for getting his jacket and shirt off, lips still fused to his boyfriend's while he walked backwards down the hall as fast as Blaine could chase him. The moment they got near the bed Kurt pushed him onto it, snatching away his crutches and opening his shirt while Blaine tried to rid himself of his jacket and tie.~_

"Talk?" Kurt's voice was whisper thin, sated and aroused. "I don't– I can't."

"Yes you can. Say anything. Tell me about your day. I want to hear your voice." Blaine traced the contours of his chest and flicked his tongue again, lightly, over a sensitive peak. The pads of his fingers dragged along luminous skin, leaving faint lines that quickly faded. The gentle touch was a marked contrast to the earlier frenzy of tangled limbs.

_~Kurt climbed onto him as soon as their pants hit the floor. Lips, tongue and teeth were everywhere, leaving a scattered trail of bruises and bites. The marks were barely visible, but it made Blaine happy to think he could feel them.~_

"My– my day. Okay. Um, costumes are good. Good costumes," he said the first thing that came to mind. And immediately drifted off to a more important subject. "You have the best lips."

"Huh-uh, you do. Most beautiful lips ever." Blaine's hooded gaze took in the flush of Kurt's skin while his mouth traveled over it, slowly pursuing the pink blush around his chest. He stroked the flat, toned muscles and gripped Kurt's pecs. His mouth settled between the thumb and fingers of one hand, taking in a stiff nipple and surrounding skin and sucking hard, causing Kurt to start keening softly. "You are so damn sexy, Kurt."

_~After quickly and roughly exploring Blaine's chest, Kurt knelt beside the bed, settling between his legs and nibbling the skin of his inner thighs, making him twitch.~_

"Brittany thinks I should ask you out," Kurt offered breathlessly.

"I knew I liked that girl."

"Mm-hmm. Me too. She thinks you're hot."

"What did you say?" asked Blaine.

"If she thinks you're hot now, she should see you naked." Kurt's hands raked over Blaine's back.

_~He pulled Blaine's hips to the edge of the mattress to lick hungrily at his testicles and suck them into his mouth, first one, then the other. His tongue swiped underneath and his hands stroked Blaine's legs, bringing them closer to his face, until Blaine's thighs rested on his shoulders, all while making such insanely hot sounds, Blaine wasn't sure which of them was loving it more.~_

"We could make a sex tape and give it to her for Christmas." Blaine's suggested mildly, peeking up at Kurt.

"Not a chance. You're mine. I never learned to share." Kurt smiled deeply to himself. Christmas was months away. He held his sweet lover closer.

_~He sucked the head of Blaine's cock between his lips, groaning and turning slowly, his tongue laving and swirling around the tip.~_

"I'm not some trophy boyfriend then?" Blaine asked between kisses and licks and soul melting bites.

"Part of me wants to show you off," Kurt was able to reply after taking a moment to catch up on gasps and shivers. "Most of me wants to hide in here and keep you all to myself."

_~Kurt loved having Blaine's hard length in his mouth almost as much as he loved making him completely unravel. He took it all in and swallowed around the head, holding down Blaine's bucking hips and humming in his throat.~_

Blaine lapped a rosy peak once more, then slid higher, making Kurt hiss when chest hair rubbed against sensitized nipples. He looked down into amazing, deep blue-green eyes, filled with desire and content. "I want to show you off too," Blaine told him. "How long will we hide?"

"I don't know. Until I learn to control myself around you?" Kurt answered weakly. That goal seemed very far away.

"We should practice." Blaine whispered the words almost directly into Kurt's mouth. "Would more sex help?"

"Yesss," Kurt happily sighed his agreement with that brilliant idea.

_~Kurt sucked him off hard and fast; desperation winning over finesse.~_

"Do you think we'll reach a point where we have foreplay  _before_  sex?" Blaine asked curiously, leaning closer still and tilting his head to run his lips right along Kurt's jaw.

"This is before sex," Kurt assured him, nodding only a tiny bit so as not to disrupt Blaine's work and tipping his head back deeper into the pillow. "Round 2. Round 1 was part of the foreplay." While hot, wet kisses trailed over his throat, Kurt reached blindly for the bottle he'd tossed onto the bed earlier.

"Did you tell Brittany you would ask me out?" Blaine mumbled under his chin.

"I– oh, that feels nice– told her I'd think about it."

"Mmm. I hope you're not just using me for my body." Blaine rocked against him.

"Never," he panted. "Maybe a little. I swear I'll still respect you in the morning." Kurt pressed the lube into his hand. "Please put your fingers in my ass."

Blaine's quiet laughter tickled across Kurt's neck as he popped the lid. "Such a sweet talker. How can I resist?"

"You can't. I have ways of making you want me." Kurt spread his legs wide and bent his knees.

"If you mean your stunning good looks, mesmerizing talent, seductive voice and perfect body, you're mistaken." Blaine stretched him slowly. "It's the rest of you I can't resist. The way your eyes flash when you're excited or angry. Your pure heart and sharp mind. Your determination and patience. Your unfailing kindness. And your ability to rip someone a new one when they deserve it, without holding a grudge later. I'd know. I've been there."

Kurt was really touched by Blaine's description. "You liked it when we were at each other's throats, didn't you?" He tore open a condom to put on his deliciously sweet boyfriend.

"Are you kidding? Why do you think I let you believe the worst of me? Sparring with you was often the best part of my day. No one else has ever insulted me with more flair." Blaine continued his gentle fingering while Kurt spread lube over his cock.

"I'd be happy to keep ripping you a new one, as you put it, except you aren't the town slut anymore," he teased. "So I'll need something else to go on. Do you have any other faults?" Kurt finished with the lube and wrapped his legs loosely around Blaine's waist.

"Plenty. And I'm not telling you what they are. It's up to you to figure them out," said Blaine as his cock was slowly enveloped by Kurt's heat and he buried his face in his lover's neck.

Kurt pulled him tighter with a deep groan. "I already know you have a penchant for ratty old t-shirts."

"Have you noticed the older a t-shirt gets, the more comfy it is?" Blaine pulled back and stroked into him again.

"I– ahh– no, I haven't noticed that." Kurt's legs tightened, squeezing around Blaine on every down-thrust.

"That all you got? My comfy shirts?" Blaine moved faster, looking for that spot that would make Kurt come apart at the seams.

"That's, um– oh God yes, right there!– that's all– harder... What?"

Blaine forgot the question. What he remembered was how good it felt to kiss Kurt. Their lips met, teeth clashing, tongues battling and thrusting like their hips. His fingers gripped Kurt's hair and he drank in his continual stream of noises – his high, throaty moans and soft, kittenish whimpers.

Kurt scratched lines across his lover's shoulders, heels digging into his back. He was burning up inside, his tongue driving into the heat of Blaine's mouth when Blaine's wasn't in his. His cock was pressed tight between their bodies, stroked by their every move. Kurt wanted this man inside him forever and yet, at the same time, loved to lie next to him, cuddled against his side, happy and fulfilled. Blaine gave him more than he'd ever had, and made him crave more.

Blaine had to pull away to gulp in air, then plastered his mouth to the crook of Kurt's neck again. Breathing could wait. He pushed his arms under his boyfriend and jammed their bodies together. Every stroke into Kurt's body sent shock waves of pleasure coursing through him, and he was sure he'd never heard anything like the sound of his name falling repeatedly from Kurt's soft lips, or the loud cry when he came long and hard between them, holding Blaine tight, clenching around him, sending him tumbling with him over the edge.

**~*~**

"It was a good first day back," Blaine commented drowsily.

"There were a couple of close calls, but we'll get better," Kurt said from his favorite spot, snuggled firmly against Blaine's side, head resting comfortably on his shoulder. "Actually, you were fine. I'm the one who needs to be more careful."

"Do you think anyone saw through us?"

"I think Sue has a good idea what's going on," Kurt replied.

"Ohhh," Blaine laughed softly. "That explains a lot. She had a little talk with me today."

"What did she say?" Kurt's fingers scraped gently through his boyfriend's chest hair.

"Let's see." Blaine placed a kiss on his forehead. "I believe she threatened to cut off my balls and sell me on the slave market – unless I get on her bad side. In which case she'll have me killed, stuffed and mounted. Not necessarily in that order. And possibly dumped in the Jersey River. She's keeping her options open."

"I love Sue." Kurt grinned, drawing a slow circle around Blaine's nipple.

"I'm pretty attached to my balls."

"She talked to me today too," said Kurt.

"Did she offer you my testicles set in glass? Paperweights for your desk?" Blaine asked, petting Kurt's back.

"I think she told me I should go home and get laid."

"I sense some favoritism."

"She's a good friend. And your balls are safe as long as you're using them to pleasure me." Kurt placed a protective hand around the parts in question.

"I have no other plans for them, so I guess there's nothing to worry about." Blaine smiled. "They're in your soft, capable hands, literally and figuratively." He was completely relaxed and happy – a feeling he was quickly becoming used to. Kurt's gentle hand on him was sweetly sensual; intimate without leading to anything. He'd never been one to cuddle before, but with Kurt, everything was better.

"You have my word. No one will touch them – except me." Kurt rolled the heavy sac slowly in his palm, loving every second of it. He sighed with contentment. "I'm going to hop in the shower before I start dinner," he stated, though he showed no signs of wanting to withdraw his hand.

"Dinner. Right, we kind of skipped that part. We had more urgent matters to take care of."

"Very urgent," Kurt agreed. "When I'm done, I'll help you clean up. I like that part. You with the bathing. Me with the watching you bathe."

Blaine grinned. "I'm looking forward to showering together. Only a couple of weeks until I'm back on my own two feet."

"I'd like that. As long as you still take a bath now and then, when we're feeling nostalgic," Kurt suggested. "You like it when I scrub your back."

"I really do."

**~*~**

"Kurt?" Brittany's voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up. She was standing in front of his desk with a worried face. "Are you okay?"

Kurt almost said 'fine' out of habit, but Brittany was turning into a real friend and he felt like he could be more open with her. "To be honest, I feel a little sick."

Her reaction was odd. She gasped and her eyes went wide. "What time is it?"

"It's almost 2:00," he answered her unexpected question without checking. He knew exactly what time it was.

"Oh." She looked relieved, while Kurt was still frowning in confusion.

"Why do you ask?" he prodded her.

"If it was morning sickness you might be pregnant."

Kurt gaped at her before replying. "Men can't get pregnant, Britt," he said carefully.

"That's what I used to think. Until my cousin and her boyfriend got married two weeks ago, and my aunt said they were pregnant and I couldn't be a bridesmaid because someone had a shotgun. Maybe that's where twins come from." Her eyes became distant, as if she was mulling over that possibility.

Kurt wondered if he should have a talk with her about safe sex. Someone apparently needed to. He'd have to run it by Sue first, though, since she was an employee. Meanwhile, he could clear up this little issue. "You should talk to your aunt again, but I promise you, men can't get pregnant. Only women can do that."

"Oh." She looked thoughtful again and then she smiled. "That makes women kind of awesome."

He smiled his agreement. "Yes, it does."

"It's babies, bitches," she said to no one in particular before looking at Kurt again. "If you're not pregnant, why are you sick?"

His smile disappeared, his own concerns popping back into his head. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"Sex."

"What?" Kurt was mildly shocked by her frankness.

"My dad used to say, 'All boys ever think about is sex,'" she explained. "If you're worried about sex, I can help."

Kurt was deciding they should have the safe sex talk on their day off, because it was going to take a while, when her offer hit him. After stammering over several responses, all he got out was, "How?"

"I can teach you how to get a guy to have sex with you," she claimed with a confidence he didn't dispute. "It's like when you ask someone to dance. Except instead of dancing, you ask if he wants to have sex. And then he says yes. It's really easy."

He was beginning to wonder if it was safe to let her out on the streets of New York. "Thanks for the tip," he said.

"Want me to write it down, so you don't forget?" Brittany offered helpfully.

"No, that's okay. I've got it."

"Hey." A voice from off to the side startled Kurt and he turned quickly, staring at Blaine with unguarded eyes full of relief and worry, joy and self-doubt.

"Hi, Blaine," Brittany greeted him cheerfully, oblivious to the undercurrents.

Blaine tore his eyes away from Kurt to look at her. "Hi, Brittany. How are you?"

"I'm great, but Kurt doesn't feel very well. We were talking about sex."

"Really?" Blaine said, eyes flicking between them, concerned about her assertion that Kurt wasn't well. "Am I interrupting?"

"No. I can help him later. Do you like kittens?" she asked Blaine.

He glanced at Kurt again in confusion. "Uh– yeah. I love kittens."

Brittany turned to Kurt with an excited grin. "He loves kittens," she said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper.

"That's great, Brittany," Kurt said, feeling sick again. "Would you excuse us, please? I need to talk to Blaine."

"Okay. See you later, Blaine." Brittany waved. "Ask him," she whispered to Kurt, giving him a thumbs up as she left them alone.

Blaine waited until she was gone. "Ask me what?"

"I'm not sure anymore. Either to have dinner or sex. Maybe both."

"I could eat," said Blaine.

Kurt felt a fresh surge of anxiety tying his stomach in knots. He looked away from Blaine's carefree face. "You just got back from a long lunch, and you're hungry?"

"I didn't get lunch," was Blaine's offhand reply.

"What happened?" Kurt asked casually, fiddling with a pen on his desk. "How's Ethan?"

"Ethan's Ethan." Blaine moved closer to his boyfriend, who refused to look at him. "How are you? You look pale. Even for you."

Color came rushing back into his face. "I'm perfectly fine. Must be the lighting in here," Kurt said defensively.

"Uh-huh."

Kurt's foot tapped rapidly on the floor. "Well?" he finally asked.

"Well what?"

"Well, what the hell happened?" Kurt couldn't take it anymore. He stood and took a few steps toward Blaine, lowering his voice. "I didn't expect you to be gone so long."

"He was late. I was about to leave when he showed." Blaine rolled his eyes, his face telling Kurt this was typical behavior.

"And? What did you say?" Kurt tried not to sound as impatient as he was.

"I told him I couldn't see him anymore because I'd met someone." Blaine was smiling by the end of this statement.

Kurt felt instantly better. "How did he take it?" He could even feel a twinge of sympathy for the unfortunate Ethan now that Blaine had officially dumped him. "Did he throw a hissy fit in the middle of the coffee shop? Shed a few tears? Maybe try to kiss you?" The short-lived sympathy fled and he was once again ready to scratch the man's eyes out.

Blaine scoffed. "He wasn't fazed. Said he didn't see what difference that should make. 'It's not like we were exclusive,'" he mimicked.

"Charming." Kurt's sarcasm came to the surface. "That reminds me, I'll make an appointment for us to get tested as soon as possible. Are you sure you want to let a prize like him slip through your fingers?"

"Slip?" Blaine chuckled. "No, I'm flinging him as far from me as possible. I told him it makes a huge difference, because I don't want to be with anyone else."

Kurt melted a little. "You said that?"

"Of course, Kurt." Blaine's voice was gentle. "And I meant it."

"Why were you gone so long?" Kurt gazed at him with a hint of the pain he'd felt over being left alone with his fears.

"I'm sorry I didn't call." Blaine mentally kicked himself. He'd have been worried too, if Kurt was having lunch with an old boyfriend. Not even old. Not even an ex yet. He should have called. "I stopped to get you something."

Kurt blinked at him in surprise, anxiety forgotten. "What is it?"

Blaine reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, shiny object.

"A key? To what?"

"To the apartment." Blaine smiled at him for not knowing the obvious.

"It's new?" Kurt hated himself for asking.

"Yes. I've never given anyone else a key to my apartment," Blaine answered his real question.

Unguarded eyes relayed an entirely different set of emotions this time when Kurt stared at him. He pointed toward a changing screen in the corner. "You need to try on the rest of your costume," he said softly. "I'll get it."

Behind the privacy screen Blaine only had to wait a few seconds before Kurt joined him, hanging the costume on a hook and instantly wrapping his arms around Blaine's neck. Their lips collided, melding together, tongues tangling in a familiar dance.

Kurt soon pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss. He hadn't lost track of where they were this time. He just hated to let go of the man in his arms. The wonderful, romantic man who was all his to kiss and coddle, he thought with a smile. Kurt's fingers were buried in soft curls and Blaine was placing tender kisses across his temple, over his cheekbones and along his jaw.

"You must be starving," Kurt coddled while Blaine nipped at his skin. "Would you like to stop somewhere for dinner on the way home?" Now that he thought about it, Kurt realized he hadn't eaten either.

"Are you asking me out, Mr. Hummel?"

"Yes, I believe I am, Mr. Anderson. Brittany would be so proud. Will you have dinner with me?"

"Let me check my calendar... Yes," Blaine answered, still kissing his neck.

"You had to check?" Kurt made a sad face, which his boyfriend missed, being buried nose-deep in fragrant skin.

"Didn't want to seem too eager. I hear that can be a turn-off."

"I understand," Kurt conceded. "I promise to have you home early and not take advantage of your innocence."

"You're a true gentleman," Blaine mumbled into the hollow of his throat.

"You, however, may do anything you like to me."

"This date is sounding better and better."


	12. Realizations

Kurt was pleased. Beyond pleased. Exhilarated! Opening nights always got him psyched and tonight was no exception. They'd had an excellent turnout, no one missed a cue, costume changes went smoothly – thanks to the wardrobe assistants – and the audience was loudly enthusiastic in their applause. And topping it all off was the after-party. People crowded around the stage and on the floor, mingling, drinking, talking and laughing. Kurt's only concern was that Blaine's injury was still too fresh for him to be on his feet for so long. His boyfriend had kept his promise to rest between scenes, though, and Kurt trusted Blaine to tell him if there was any pain.

Sue was lording over a group of people who obviously didn't know her very well, and looking sufficiently displeased to have them tripping all over themselves. Michael was surrounded by even more people, all vying for his attention. Kurt couldn't really fault them. He remembered what it was like, pounding the pavement every day, begging for parts, trying to meet the right people and get a foot in the door somewhere. This was a private party, fortunately, so the fawning was reasonably limited. However, among those invited there were plenty who'd love to be a permanent cast member, including some of the actors from tonight's performance.

He and Blaine were mingling separately, having managed, somehow, to keep their relationship quiet over the last few weeks. How, he wasn't sure, because rather than becoming easier over time, it was increasingly difficult. They'd become so close, so comfortable with each other, it felt unnatural to maintain distance at work. Kurt wanted to be at Blaine's side right now, except he knew they'd end up holding hands – at least – without even realizing it. So they stood apart, the width of the stage between them. And yet he was hyper-aware of Blaine's whereabouts at all times.

"Kurt?" a soft voice came from behind him.

He turned toward Brittany, who was looking at him with mournful eyes, and gently touched her shoulder, guiding her off to the side. "Brittany, are you all right? You look ready to cry."

Her gaze dropped to the vicinity of their feet and she swayed ever-so-slightly from side to side, like a little girl getting a scolding. Kurt leaned a bit so he could see her face. "What is it? You can tell me."

"I'm sorry, Kurt. It's all my fault."

"What do you mean? What's your fault?"

Brittany looked up through her lashes. "I was talking to this guy." Her bottom lip began to quiver.

"Did someone hurt you?" Kurt stood quickly upright, tall and fierce. "Who was it? What did he do?"

"No. He was cute and I asked if he wanted to go dancing."

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, and sincerely hoped she wasn't using dancing as a metaphor. "What happened?"

"He said he was here with his boyfriend."

Her voice had gone quiet and he had to strain to hear her over the noise. "He was gay? Is that why you're sad? You are a beautiful woman, Brittany, and you'll meet someone special one day." Kurt wondered where his cynicism had gone. He thought he'd given up believing there was someone for everyone. Apparently not.

"Yeah, he's gay so I thought, 'That's okay, we could be friends. Friends dance.'"

Again, he hoped she meant that literally. "Of course. There's nothing wrong with dancing."

"So I asked if he and his boyfriend wanted to go dancing with me and my girlfriend."

A solitary eyebrow rose, but Kurt was silent, waiting for her to continue.

"And I asked if his boyfriend was here, and he said yes." She was staring at the floor again.

Kurt suddenly felt queasy. "Then what happened?"

"He said his boyfriend is Blaine and he can't dance because he hurt his ankle," she said to her feet.

He stared unblinking at his friend for a full 30 seconds. "That's impossible." His voice was flat, toneless.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to fix you up with him. I didn't know he had a boyfriend." She patted him comfortingly on the arm. "I'll find someone else for you. There's a dozen fish in the sea."

The initial wave of anguish and uncertainty gave way to anger. "That's impossible," he repeated with conviction. "It's not true, Brittany."

She looked at him with pity. "He said–"

"He was lying!" Kurt snapped.

Her eyes welled up and the quivering lip returned, so Kurt got hold of himself and took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry," he said. "Please don't be upset. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I should have picked someone else for you. I didn't want you to get hurt," she sniffled.

Obviously, he didn't look calm enough yet. He forcibly relaxed his features. "I'm not hurt, Britt. Everything's fine, I promise."

She still seemed uncertain, and he called on his acting skills to give her a warm smile. "Honestly, I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about. I'm absolutely positive the person you spoke to was not telling the truth."

"How do you know?" Her hopeful expression said she wanted to believe him.

Kurt chose his words carefully. "I spent a lot of time with Blaine after he hurt himself and I guarantee that guy, whoever he is, is not Blaine's boyfriend. Okay?"

"Okay." Although she didn't look entirely convinced, she nevertheless didn't argue.

"Good. Now, why don't you tell me who it was, and let's see that gorgeous smile. There's no reason to be sad. No one is getting hurt."  _Except the lying snake._  "Look around and tell me if you see him."

"Yes," she said after a short search.

"Okay, what does he look like?" Kurt kept his eyes on Brittany and his clenched teeth hidden.

"Kind of like a boy I dated in high school."

He sighed, some of his tension flowing away. "Just point him out to me, please. What's he wearing?"

"A brown suit. He's over there," she pointed, "talking to Maggie."

Kurt spotted him instantly. A little taller than Kurt, he was rail thin, with light brown hair carefully styled to look charmingly messy. He was laughing at something Maggie said and appeared to be ignoring the people around her. Presumably, they weren't important enough to bother with. Kurt snatched a glass from a passing waiter's tray, not caring what it contained, as long as it was alcoholic.

"His name is Ethan," Brittany said.

"I had a feeling," he muttered under his breath. "You did great tonight," he said louder, trying to cheer her up. "The wardrobes were perfect. Go enjoy the party and don't worry about Ethan. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Bye, Kurt." She gave him a sympathetic look before turning away.

**~*~**

He took a sip of what turned out to be vodka and cranberry juice, inconspicuously watching the rat bastard attempt to schmooze his friend. Kurt had a side view of him. Saw his eyes dart around when Maggie wasn't looking. And saw his glance pause on Michael, sizing up the group surrounding him. A second later he was all charm and attentiveness toward Maggie again, one of the handful of people at the party who had the director's ear.

Kurt felt a pang for Blaine, who must have bought this guy's act a few months ago. His gaze jumped downstage to his secret lover. Blaine had his back to Ethan, chatting with some of the extras. Kurt knew most of them fairly well, all good guys, the type who took bit parts because they loved the theater, but had other jobs. This was a hobby to them.

He looked back at Pencil Neck. The hostility didn't show on Kurt's face, and he was careful not to stare too openly, but he watched, and waged an internal debate. It would be a simple matter to have the man removed if he didn't know that people would question his motive. Ethan wasn't – as far as anyone could see – causing any trouble. Kurt could ask Sue to have him removed. No one would question her. But there'd be no satisfaction in that. He preferred to fight his own battles.

Dismissing both ideas, he saw Ethan leave Maggie's circle and make his way toward Blaine. Kurt nearly choked on his drink.  _He wouldn't dare._

He dared. Kurt realized the man must have been watching Blaine and concluded that he was here alone. While Kurt's fist did tighten around his (thankfully sturdy) glass, he fortunately retained enough presence of mind to hold onto an expression that was passably unconcerned to the casual observer.

Ethan approached Blaine from behind, inviting himself into the group by putting on what was obviously – to Kurt – a phony smile and placing a light hand on Blaine's back as he insinuated himself into a spot by his side. Blaine was smiling too, until he saw the newcomer and the unpleasant shock of it wrote itself plainly across his face. Ethan ignored the look and immediately said something to the group that had them all laughing. Blaine's gaze, however, flew past them all to his boyfriend and they both knew Kurt was keeping a tight rein on himself. Blaine turned back to the group and began to sidle away from the taller man, which Ethan put a stop to by means of a hand on the back of his upper arm, touching him in a very familiar manner that Kurt didn't like, and all without taking his eyes from the others.

**~*~**

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Kurt saw nothing and no one else; his entire being focused on them, on the hand resting possessively on his boyfriend. He tossed back his drink and set the glass down on a nearby table with a thunk, watching Blaine glance down with distaste and awkwardly lift his shoulder, trying to pull away without being obvious. He was too polite for his own good sometimes. Kurt, however, was not. All thoughts of secrecy disappeared, wiped out the instant that bony claw had clamped onto Blaine's perfect arm. He moved slowly in their direction, every step closer fueling his rage.

Blaine quickly masked his disgust and once more tried to ease away without causing a scene. The hand tightened almost imperceptibly and he looked at his friends to see if they'd noticed. They hadn't. Everyone's attention was on Ethan, who was entertaining them with some cute anecdote. Blaine felt trapped and looked longingly toward his boyfriend again. His eyes widened. He'd never seen Kurt truly angry until that moment, when he looked ready to wipe the floor with Ethan's scrawny ass. It was an amazing – and freaking hot – sight to behold.

But, after taking a second to simply revel in the vision of Kurt coming to his rescue, he shook off the selfish desire to let his lover physically remove the unwelcome hand and openly stake his claim on Blaine. He couldn't let Kurt to do something he'd regret later. Ethan sure as hell wasn't worth it. He quickly excused himself from the guys and shoved the hand away, enjoying his ex's flicker of embarrassment. Then he walked away, putting himself in Kurt's path.

Blaine deliberately blocked him when Kurt tried to veer around to get to his target, his eyes like chips of ice. Blaine's heart was pounding in his chest; banging out a rhythmic chant,  _Kurt's jealous, Kurt's jealous, Kurt's jealous_.

For the first time in his life, someone cared enough to be jealous. As in ready-to-do-bodily-harm jealous. Blaine was severely tempted to stand aside and watch. If only he hadn't known that Kurt deplored violence and would never forgive himself if he hurt another person for something as trifling as this. Even a slimy person. "Kurt," he quietly, yet firmly demanded his boyfriend's attention.

Kurt was trembling with an anger like nothing he'd ever experienced before. "Move out of my way, Blaine."

"Why? What are you going to do?" Blaine said it to stall him, only admitting silently to himself that he really wanted to hear the answer.

"Punch him in the face," Kurt replied unthinkingly.

Although Blaine, like Kurt, had no taste for violence, he was disturbingly aroused by his lover's loss of control. "I know you don't mean that," he said huskily.

"What is he  _doing_  here?" Kurt's voice quavered with emotion.

From those words, Blaine presumed that Kurt knew exactly who it was he was about to attack. "Crashing?"

"I think it's time he left." He took another step and Blaine stopped him again.

"He's not important," Blaine tried to calm him.

"He. Touched. You." Kurt gritted out the words that made him want to damage the guy's bony, obnoxious face.

"And hopefully that will never happen again. I didn't exactly give him a warm reception, in case you didn't notice."

"I did. I also noticed that he didn't respect your wishes. All the more reason for me to explain some things to him."

"You're so hot when you're jealous." Blaine didn't mean to say it. It slipped out. And now that it was said, he could think of much better uses for Kurt's passion.

Kurt's anger faltered, interrupted when he noticed his boyfriend's flushed cheeks and dark eyes. He glanced at Ethan, who'd steadfastly ignored Blaine since he walked away, keeping his back to him. Kurt's eyes stung, reality setting in. He'd never hit anyone in his life, no matter what they had done to him, no matter how much they had deserved it. Hell, Ethan hadn't even done anything all that terrible. It was Kurt's own jealousy that had slammed him in the gut.

"It's not like I was going to hit him in the throat," Kurt mumbled. That was considered fighting dirty (he'd read somewhere). He saw Blaine snicker. "Can't I break  _something_?" he pleaded, bottom lip looking suspiciously full. "A finger?"

"Kuuurt," Blaine sternly reprimanded.

"Please? One teensy little bone?"

"You're crazy." Blaine shook his head fondly.

"Probably. But I've been sane a long while now, and change is good."

Blaine laughed softly and sighed. "Are you okay?"

Kurt gave him a look of gratitude. "I am now."

"Good."

"Still jealous," Kurt admitted, "but better."

" _You're_ jealous? How do you think I feel?" Blaine asked incredulously.

"Uhh. What?" Kurt's face screwed up in adorable confusion.

"Did you happen to notice the tall blonde who's been staring at you all night?" Blaine's head waggled.

"...You're making that up!" Kurt accused, laughing.

"Am I? Charcoal Armani, talking to Michael."

Kurt looked toward the front row seats, where Michael could usually be found, and spotted an attractive man, around 6'2", 30ish. He was indeed wearing an obscenely expensive suit. Kurt was surprised he hadn't noticed it. The stranger's eyes darted to the side, straight at Kurt like he'd known precisely where to look. He caught Kurt's eye and gave him a suggestive smile, his gaze roaming down and back up in the universal language for a proposition.

Ignoring him, Kurt turned back to Blaine, who grinned widely, knowing he'd won that one. Kurt suddenly realized why he hadn't noticed the stranger. His gaze had only skimmed the crowd that night in his effort to avoid staring openly at Blaine. "Nice suit," he acknowledged.

"That's it?" Blaine laughed. "Nice suit? He's been eye-fucking you for the last hour."

"I wouldn't know," was Kurt's prim response. "But I do know he didn't put his filthy paws on me." He looked smug, figuring he'd evened the score.

"And I'd like to keep it that way. If he saw us leave together he might take the hint and find someone else to visually molest," Blaine snarked, not giving up so easily.

"Leave? But. Ethan." Kurt still felt the need to do something about him. He couldn't just go around touching the man Kurt loved.

The breath froze in his lungs. The man he loved? Loved? Yes. Loved.  _I love him. I love Blaine._

He looked with new eyes at his friend and lover, who was somehow more handsome every day. The silky hair Kurt loved to twist and loop around his fingers every chance he got. Eyes he could happily spend the rest of his life trying to decide the exact color of and, more importantly, eyes that were kind, honest, and filled with intelligence and humor. Eyes that looked at Kurt sometimes like he was the only other man in the world.

Skin like caramel, gorgeous and delicious. Or like satin against his fingers when he touched Blaine's face. Taut and smooth over his perfect body. Masculine and hair-roughened across his chest.

And his lips. God, his lips. More perfect than the statue of David. Lips that kissed Kurt tenderly before he fell asleep every night, and woke him sometimes with little nibbles in random places. Lips that had the power to steal his breath. The power to turn him into a mindless, quivering puddle at Blaine's feet.

Something was happening. Blaine was enthralled by the way Kurt was staring at him, overjoyed and terrified by what he saw in those brilliant blue depths. What he thought he could see overjoyed him. The knowledge that he could be wrong was what was terrifying. No one had ever looked at him that way. He couldn't be certain. He couldn't let himself jump to conclusions. "Kurt." Blaine's lips moved, no sound coming out.

"Take me home," Kurt whispered.


	13. Beautiful

Kurt led Blaine into the darkened bedroom, their fingers tightly entwined, as they'd been since they left the theater. At the side of the bed he reluctantly let go, because he needed to rub gentle palms up and down Blaine's arms, brushing away any residual memory of other hands.

After placing a small kiss on the tip of his nose, Kurt left him standing there while he lit the candles he'd placed in the room. More and more of his belongings had found their way to Blaine's apartment in the last few weeks. These days, Kurt only stopped by his own place when he needed something. The impossibility of sleeping without Blaine curled around him meant it wasn't home anymore.

There was a calmness about Kurt. A strength Blaine had seen and admired from the beginning. He had his moments, certainly – like tonight – when the control slipped and he was consumed by insecurities he'd obviously buried. It was during those moments that he saw past the image Kurt showed to the world and glimpsed into his heart. His vulnerabilities.

It was healthy to let them out sometimes, Blaine knew. Fears had to be brought into the open if they were to be overcome. Perhaps Kurt had never had anyone there to hold him and kiss him when emotions took over, too strong to stay bottled up. He did now. Blaine would hold him, comfort and reassure him, listen to him or talk to him. Whatever he needed, Blaine would be.

Even his anger over Ethan had been about more than jealousy, Blaine thought. It had been about protecting him from the unwanted touch of a bully. A user. If the touch had been something else – if Kurt believed Blaine cared for someone else – he'd bottle up the pain and let him go.

Blaine watched the candlelight flicker over his lover's skin, making it glow. One side of him was hidden in the darkness, the other standing out in sharp relief, highlighting Kurt's amazing bone structure. The strong, straight line of his jaw. The sultry cat eyes. The outline of his lips, accentuated by shadows, seeming fuller than ever. Candlelight only served to emphasize the artistry of his features and Blaine knew he would never see anything more beautiful.

Kurt walked slowly toward him while Blaine stood staring, until soft hands came up to Blaine's face, thumbs wiping away moisture he hadn't known was there. They leaned together, foreheads and noses touching, sharing each other's breaths.

"I love you," Kurt said, soft and clear, without hesitation or doubt.

Blaine let out a choked sob and enfolded him in his arms, squeezing so tightly it probably hurt, though there were no complaints. Kurt simply wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck and held on.

"I love you, Kurt." Finally. Finally, he spoke the words he'd been aching to say. He could trust his feelings now, because Kurt hadn't been looking for love. He hadn't rushed into anything. Blaine wasn't making it all up in his head.

They were both smiling when Kurt framed his face between his palms again and pressed their lips together sweetly, before carefully slipping the jacket from Blaine's shoulders to hang with his own over a chair. He was in no rush this time.

Kneeling in front of Blaine, Kurt helped him out of his shoes and socks, and looked up into his eyes while unfastening his belt and slacks, sliding them down muscular thighs to drop at his feet. Then he caressed the backs of Blaine's legs and leaned forward to press a long, firm kiss to the lovely ridge so temptingly near his face.

After gently urging Blaine to sit, Kurt went to the chair again, draping the slacks there and turning to face the bed while he slowly removed his own clothes. Dark eyes tracked his every movement, Blaine's breath coming faster as he watched his lithe, graceful boyfriend deliberately turn away to pull off his boxers, fold them unnecessarily, and lay them neatly on the pile of clothing, his rounded bottom, like every other part of him, showing to advantage in the dancing light.

Kurt took his time, letting his eyes caress his boyfriend's half-dressed form and glide back up to his face before returning to the bed. He stroked Blaine's hair and tilted his head back for a tender kiss. "Lie back on the bed, sweetheart."

Happiness well beyond what was called for bubbled up inside him at the endearment and Blaine quickly turned, shuffling farther up the mattress, flipping onto his back and looking at Kurt with a toothy smile that said, 'I'm all yours.'

Kurt took a few seconds to gather their things from the nightstand and climbed onto the bed, straddling Blaine's hips and smiling at the irresistible man who gazed up at him with such an adoring grin on his face. He bent forward to peck at his lips. "I love you, Blaine," he said playfully, looking into amazing hazel eyes and twirling a curly lock around his finger. That hair was made for twirling.

"I love you too. And I love being able to say I love you. Because I love you." Blaine stroked the length of Kurt's back and cupped his rear.

"Well said."

"Think so?" Blaine was still grinning uncontrollably.

"Had a kind of poetry to it."

"Ohhh, no you didn't," Blaine laughed. "That's the second one tonight!"

"If you're going to set them up for me so beautifully, I really have no choice."

"I think you've figured out I can't resist you when you quote  _Firefly_. You're using wiles on me. Your uncanny ability to make a man sweaty and/or compliant."

"Touché." Kurt gave him due credit.

"Is there a quote that will get you to kiss me?" asked Blaine.

"You don't need a quote for that." He gently nibbled Blaine's bottom lip, tugging and sucking on it, earning a throaty groan for his efforts.

The playful mood disappeared as quickly as it had come and Blaine's fingers threaded through Kurt's hair, pulling him down to ravage his mouth, hot tongue stroking in, flicking against his palate and tangling with his tongue.

Kurt moaned into it, blindly loosening the tie Blaine still wore until he could tug it free and toss it to the floor. When they pulled apart, he was glassy-eyed. "Blaine," he panted, leaving unsaid what those kisses did to him. Blaine knew.

Kurt's hips rocked minutely, bare flesh grazing over his lover's clothed arousal, teasing him. He bent down to drag his mouth under Blaine's jaw and started on his shirt, fingers working to slip the buttons free. And as each new inch of skin was uncovered, Kurt's mouth was there to taste and murmur appreciatively. "Mmm, Blaine, love your skin – love to taste you – love your texture. I love you."

Every word spoken between soft touches of the lips and tongue mapping his body made Blaine ache for more. His shirt hung open at his sides and his hands were caught in Kurt's hair, sliding lower and lower down his body. He sucked in a sharp breath when teeth closed over him, pressing gently, a heady reminder of their first night together.

Similar memories made Kurt sigh against the oh-so-hard shaft under his mouth, and inhale Blaine's intoxicating scent through the thin fabric. He got rid of the last of Blaine's clothing, flinging the shirt and boxers that had no right to come between him and his boyfriend's bare skin. Then Kurt spread out over him again, aligning their bodies, loving the way Blaine canted up for more contact.

The touch of skin against skin drew a shuddering groan from Blaine. Their bodies were connected from chest to toes, every slight motion of one felt by the other, and neither trying to be still. Far from it. Kurt began to grind, making Blaine's hips move instinctively, his head tipping back into the pillow.

Kurt pushed a hand under Blaine's head to bring it back to his level. "I want to make love to you," he whispered and ran his tongue along Blaine's closed lips until they parted for him.

"Hauh ysh uuth eez," Blaine responded enthusiastically around the tongue delving into his mouth.

Kurt eased back, smiling and keeping their lips lightly touching. "Was that a yes?"

"Yes– yes– God yes, Kurt, please."

Baby soft hands glided across his skin, working their way down hips and thighs, then back again. When they hooked under his knees, Blaine quickly bent them, eagerly spreading his legs wide. He felt Kurt's amused smile against his mouth and lifted a foot to poke him in the back, since his hands were still occupied, mussing thick, silky hair.

Kurt's mouth moved lower, wet and hot, sucking on his skin, laving over his collarbone and burning a trail up to his ear. Blaine shivered under his touch, arching his neck. "Kurt– you– oh– don't stop– lips– your lips– God," Blaine gasped out broken pleas for more.

Much as he hated to, Kurt had to pull away so he could sit back on his heels.

"No!" Blaine cried, using his grip on his lover's hair to bring him back down.

"Shh," Kurt soothed, running his palms over Blaine's hips. "I have to prep you, sweetheart. Then I'll suck on your neck all night if you want." He pressed his lips to Blaine's jaw.

Blaine came crashing down from the cloud he'd been floating on, flushing with embarrassment and releasing the death-grip on Kurt's hair. "Sorry." His eyes screwed shut. What was happening to him?

"Oh, no, please don't do that," Kurt begged. "Don't be sorry for wanting me or needing me, because I feel the same way about you. There are times when I can't get close enough to you, no matter how I try. Times I just want to crawl inside you and live there. I didn't understand it at first, but I do now, and I know it's okay, because I'm not alone. Am I?"

Blaine shook his head, letting out a shaky breath and staring up at Kurt with eyes that glittered.

"And neither are you." Kurt kissed him again, deeper, until the embarrassment was forgotten and all Blaine wanted was to be wrapped in his lover's arms and feel Kurt moving inside him. He moaned into his mouth and took Kurt's hand, placing it over the bottle by his hip.

**~*~**

The light touch of slick fingers tracing, rimming, sent ribbons of sensation to every nerve ending like an electrical current. The swipe of a tongue up the underside of his cock made his eyes fly open when he couldn't remember closing them. Then Kurt was sucking the head between his lips, dipping his tongue into the slit, and pressing under the ridge, and by the time a finger pushed into him, Blaine was open-mouthed and fisting the sheets.

Kurt kept him on the edge, sinking down to take him all in, easing back to gentle licks if he got too close, stroking into him all the while, and knowing when to add another finger by the sounds Blaine made. The closer he got to his peak, the more incoherent he became, unable to do much more than stammer out 'yes' and 'ohgod' and 'fuck, Kurt please.'

He was three-fingers in, rubbing that magical spot and sucking energetically before Blaine lost the ability to form the entirety of the syllable that was Kurt's name. Kurt listened to the stuttered 'K-Kur-K-Kur,' smiled around the shaft between his lips and brought him back from the brink again with tiny licks, pulling his fingers out slowly.

Blaine was panting heavily when he opened his eyes and tried to focus through the haze of lust clouding his vision. Kurt was looking back with a smile while he rolled on a condom and slathered on lube.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said, lightly teasing. "Welcome back."

"Heh–" Blaine tried to answer and all that came out was a hoarse whisper. He swallowed. "How long was I gone?"

Kurt glanced at the clock. "Not long. Thirty minutes maybe. Was that enough foreplay for you?"

Blaine went to reach for him and found one of his hands was gripping his own hair. "It was perfect. You're perfect. I feel like we've been going for days."

Kurt leaned over him on all fours. "Are you tired? Want to go to sleep?" he asked sweetly, trusting the answer to be an unequivocal 'no' and letting his hard cock drag against Blaine's while he waited.

"I want you to fuck me until I pass out," was the quick reply. "Please," Blaine added, remembering his manners.

"I don't think I'm going to last long, but I'll do my best to fuck you unconscious. Or until you come all over me," Kurt whispered, lining up and pressing in at last, slowly inching deeper. "Oh, Blaine," he groaned, eyes rolling into his head.

Blaine wrapped his arms around his lover and lifted his hips, sighing at the wonderful stretch and fullness that meant Kurt was inside him. Just the thought was enough to send him teetering toward the edge again.

Kurt almost forgot to breathe while sliding all the way into the unbelievable warmth, completely surrounded by Blaine. His head dropped onto a shoulder, content to lie there until one of them, or both of them, felt able to move again. It wasn't long before he felt hands ghosting up and down his spine, and Blaine nuzzling his ear. His ear. That reminded Kurt...

He started off with slow, gentle thrusts, turning his head to scrape sharp teeth over Blaine's lobe, and enjoying the harsh intake of breath it produced. Then Kurt's hands went for his hair again, drawn like a moth to a flame, and he tugged his head back so he could attach his mouth to Blaine's throat, moving his hips faster.

Blaine met his every thrust, writhing and panting for more. His neck was tingling like mad everywhere those lips touched, and he heard desperate whimpers that he thought might have been coming from his own throat.

Kurt bit down on Blaine's shoulder, causing his hips to jerk off the bed, then licked and sucked hard on that spot, leaving an angry red mark that would last for days. He placed his hands on either side of his boyfriend and lifted himself so he could see Blaine's face.

Strong hands swept down Kurt's chest, pausing at little pink nubs, thumbs passing over them again. And again. They pebbled under his touch and Blaine's lips parted, the tip of his tongue peeking out in his concentration. Then thumbs joined forces with fingers to twist and pluck at the fascinating peaks. Kurt's arms trembled with the effort of holding himself up while Blaine played his body like an instrument. He held his position and thrust deep, never missing a stroke.

When he looked down, Blaine was doing it again, gazing at him like there was no one else on Earth. Kurt's translucent skin reddened from the rush of blood, heat racing through him. Even as his hips kept their rhythm, drumming against Blaine in a steady beat as old as time, he felt they were too far apart. Inches separated their upper bodies. Too far.

His mouth descended to Blaine's waiting lips, and he felt blunt fingernails rake down his back. Their chests pressed together again, their bodies fitting perfectly. They moved in sync, trading soft moans and sighs, dragging out the ecstasy, staving off the climax they both needed and didn't want yet.

But the moans grew ragged; the motions less rhythmic. The need was too strong, driving them to greater urgency.

Their mouths unlocked, lips still open and touching, unable to focus on kissing. Instead, grunts and groans echoed between them, with tongues darting out to taste lips and sometimes running into each other.

Kurt grasped heavy locks of hair, tugging with every stroke inward. Their noises became harsher, punctuated by sharp gasps and cries. Hips moved faster, harder, pistoning together in a frenzy. Their mouths separated, cheeks pressing together. Words were formed again, unplanned, unconscious, spilling as erratically as the pounding of skin on skin. "Loveyou loveyou loveyou," chanted by both until Blaine's hips spasmed and arms tightened, squeezing the breath from Kurt as streaks of pearly white shot between them.

Kurt's eyes clenched shut and he fucked Blaine through his orgasm as hard as he could, screaming into his shoulder moments later when the coil snapped low in his own gut and he jerked rapidly forward, instincts driving him deep.

Hearts raced and cocks pulsed for seemingly endless minutes, both men immobile as they slowly came down from their high.

Kurt withdrew, shivering, keeping his face hidden in the crook of his lover's neck. He inhaled shakily while Blaine held him, running soothing hands over his back. Kurt laughed a sniffling, breathy laugh. "Why does making love to you bring me to tears?"

Blaine hummed for a second, giving it serious thought. "Years of repressed feelings," he decided, kissing a soft cheek. "Cry as much as you need, beautiful. I'm right here."

Kurt actually did cry at that, happy tears – not too many – that he smiled through, touching his lips to delicious latte skin. "I love you, Blaine," he breathed, and the arms around him tightened again.

"I love you, Kurt."


	14. Serenity

A tiny whisper of sound drew Blaine's eyes across the room. He'd felt, more than heard, the hints of sadness and resignation in the quiet sigh. Kurt was standing in front of the closet, a towel around his waist and proud shoulders drooping when strong arms slid around him and a chin came to rest on his shoulder. His head leaned against Blaine's.

"What's wrong, love?" Blaine asked, brushing a gentle kiss across his cheek. Another sigh, completely silent this time. Blaine felt it in the way he breathed.

Kurt shared what he wouldn't have admitted to anyone else. "Some days I put on these clothes and I feel like I'm suffocating."

"Then stop." Blaine turned him in his arms, looking earnest.

Kurt's head shook in a small motion that barely qualified as a response. "You don't know what it's like." His eyes turned away and Blaine suddenly felt a yawning distance between them. One he hadn't even known was there. "You're not obvious. When you walk down the street, total strangers don't call you a–"

"Please don't," Blaine silenced him. His hands went to Kurt's face, drawing those eyes back to him and bridging the gap with the intensity of his own gaze. "When I walk down the street it will be with you by my side, holding my hand, and total strangers can go fuck themselves."

Kurt kissed a smiling thank you onto Blaine's lips and shook away the desolate feeling that had sprung out of nowhere. He didn't normally angst over public perceptions. "I don't care about them. I do it for the job I love, but Michael doesn't buy my disguise, even after all this time."

Blaine led him to the bed and sat, arm draped around him. "I think you misunderstand Michael's motives." Blaine took a deep breath, prepared to confess. "I, uh– I had a talk with him. About you."

Kurt was surprised. "You told him about us?"

"No. No, nothing like that. We were talking about your Viola."

"Oh." One side of Kurt's mouth curled up in a cute, bashfully pleased half-smile. "He said I did well, that day we performed."

Blaine breathed easier when news of his meddling went unremarked. "He should have. You were fantastic."

Kurt gave him a little shove, pink-cheeked. "You're only saying that because you liked practicing the kiss."

"There  _was_  that, but no. You're good. Really good."

"You're sweet." Kurt kissed his cheek, feeling decidedly better.

"Michael would agree with me. He thinks of you as the star."

"Pfft. Nonsense," Kurt scoffed at the very idea. "He's never once given me the lead."

"I know. From what he said, he gives you the tough roles. He thinks it's harder to be funny than dramatic. Even if I'm not sure I agree with that in general, I can see his point for  _Twelfth Night_. He basically told me to my face that I couldn't pull off Malvolio."

Kurt's lips pressed together, eyes wide and bright with amusement, and Blaine leaned away slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Laugh it up, fuzzball," he sarcastically invited his boyfriend to enjoy himself at Blaine's expense. Kurt, not wanting to be impolite, slapped a hand over his traitorous mouth with a rapid shake of the head.

While Kurt quickly evened out his features, Blaine tried to look severe. "Are you done?" he deadpanned, sending his boyfriend into a fresh giggle fit. It was one of the best feelings in the world, making Kurt laugh. His twinkling eyes and joyous laughter ranked right up there near blown pupils and breathy moans on Blaine's list of favorite things.

"I'm sorry, honey. I'm not laughing at you," Kurt swore his innocence between straggling chuckles.

"What could have possibly given me that idea?" He cocked a brow and kept a straight face for Kurt, whose sunny smile lit up the room from where he'd fallen fetal on the bed.  _Kurt thinks I'm funny. Eat my shorts, Michael._

The laughter trickled away and Kurt lay looking at Blaine as if he were the best thing since haute couture. Blaine trailed soft fingertips slowly down his boyfriend's arm and lifted his hand to kiss the palm.

"You should wear whatever you want, Kurt. To hell with what other people think. I doubt Michael pays attention to your clothing anyway. If you were to wrap up toga-style in a rainbow flag, maybe he'd notice. Otherwise – and I have to admit I've come to admire this about Michael – I'm pretty sure he only sees your talent."

The smile faded and, to Blaine's dismay, Kurt suddenly looked ill. "You mean I did it all for nothing?" he whispered.

"Um–" Blaine couldn't think how to refute that.

"I spent the last 18 months," his voice rose steadily, "dressed like a color-blind junior accountant on depressants. For nothing?" Kurt ranted. "A year and a half of my  _life_ ," he wailed, arms flopping out to the sides, "lost forever in a haze of conformist mediocrity."

"Come on, love. It's not so bad," Blaine soothed, not grinning at Kurt's histrionics. Not at all.

"Please! I looked like a 10-year old dressed in his Sunday best. By his mother. His adoptive, virginal, possibly-former-nun mother." Kurt's bottom lip stuck out in a fair impression of a 10-year old.

"I thought you were handsome." Blaine was slightly put-out to have found Kurt attractive for the last year if he'd been aiming for the opposite.

"Really?" Kurt looked at him appraisingly.

"Yes." Blaine made a petulant face of his own.

"You never asked me out."

"You hated my guts."

"Oh, yeah. Not really."

"You didn't hate me?" Blaine prompted. Fishing for compliments wasn't always successful with Kurt, which didn't keep him from trying.

"I thought you were charming and sexy. Infuriatingly sexy," Kurt reluctantly admitted. "You had a nice... walk."  _Ass._

"You never asked me out," Blaine parroted.

"You were a man-whore who tossed lovers aside like"  _used condoms_  "disposable handi-wipes."

"Right. Almost forgot." They shared a smile and Blaine leaned closer.

"I wasn't sure how much more of your 'infuriatingly sexy' I could take before I did something stupid." Kurt gently stroked Blaine's cheek. "I'm glad I was wrong about you."

"I'm glad you get to be yourself now." Blaine bent forward for a tender kiss, a very enjoyable one, in the middle of which Kurt's eyes flew open and he pushed Blaine back with a loud gasp. "What?" He looked down at Kurt's panicked face.

"What am I going to wear?" he squeaked and shoved Blaine off him, hopping up frantically. "I have to think." Kurt started pacing and glared at the clock. "We have to be at theater by 1:00. No time to shop." He stopped in front of the closet, only to begin pacing again immediately. "I need my things." He turned to Blaine. "Get dressed. We're going to my apartment so I can pick out something for today. Tomorrow morning I'll box up this frump collection and replace it with the good stuff."

"Great. I'll help. Um–" Blaine hesitated.

"What?" Kurt wondered if he was about to say something ridiculous, like clothes weren't important. He tightened his towel, prepared to be affronted.

"It might be easiest to bring everything at once." Blaine inconspicuously crossed his fingers.

Kurt gave him a look of confusion. "I don't understand."

"I mean–" Blaine cleared his throat. "If we had some help, like movers or something, we could get all your things in one trip."

Kurt's arms went limp at his sides. "Movers?" he breathed.

Blaine scratched nervously at the back of his neck. "It hardly makes sense to keep an apartment you don't need. Does it?" No sooner was the last word out than his boyfriend launched himself at him and he toppled over with an armful of squealing Kurt.

It was hard to kiss Blaine properly, Kurt discovered, when he was smiling so wide he couldn't pucker up. Oh well, improper kisses were good too. "You want me to live with you?" he stopped to ask, grinning foolishly, wanting to hear it again.

Blaine's warm chuckle could be felt all through the nearly naked body sprawled on top of him. "You already live with me, silly man. You don't think I'm going to let you sleep somewhere else, do you? Without me?"

Kurt's head shook vigorously. "I don't think I could sleep without you if I tried."

"Same here. So, let's go to your old apartment tomorrow, get your clothes and talk to your landlord. We'll break the lease, buy it out, sublet. Whatever it takes."

"Most of my furniture won't fit here," Kurt argued for the sake of arguing, feet twitching like the tail of an ecstatic puppy and joy shining in his face.

Blaine's answering smile was just as immovable. "Bring anything you want, sell what you don't need, and we'll put the rest in storage." He had ready answers, since he'd been thinking about this a lot.

"I suppose it would be more economical to give up my old place and split the rent on one apartment." Kurt pretended to think about it, looking around the bedroom until a quick frown creased his brow. "Actually, half the rent here might be the same as full rent for my place. How on Earth can you afford this?" he asked, somewhat rudely. "Two bedrooms don't come cheap around here. Did you have a roommate when you moved in? Is it rent control? Did this apartment belong to relatives or something?"

"No, on all counts," Blaine replied, and Kurt silently waited for him to continue. "I have money." He said it dismissively, hoping to slip that by unnoticed.

Kurt blinked at him. "What?" he asked. Because. What?

Slipping it by didn't work. Blaine tried playing it down. "It's not a big deal. I have a stipend."

"A stipend," Kurt repeated in shock. Blaine might as well have said he was a secret agent.

"It's like an allowance."

"I know what it is." Kurt still stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"I was going to tell you." Blaine gave up playing it down and tried to appease Kurt instead. "I was only waiting until I knew you felt the same way I did. Then last night–" He'd heard the words he'd waited for forever. "This doesn't change anything." He hoped.

Kurt shook himself out of his stupor. "No," he offered a feeble denial. "Of course not. It's unexpected, that's all. Maybe it shouldn't be; you couldn't afford a place twice the size of mine on your salary alone. I just hadn't given it any thought." Kurt knew it shouldn't make a difference in their relationship. He felt kind of awkward anyway.

Blaine sighed, sensing his discomfort. "I haven't told you much about my family yet. The truth is, my grandfather was a very successful businessman and my father followed in his footsteps. He wasn't too happy when I decided to study the performing arts; we don't exactly see eye-to-eye. My grandfather and I, on the other hand, were very close. He was really supportive when I came out. My father was convinced I just hadn't met the right girl. Probably still is."

Kurt comforted him with another loving kiss, stroking fingertips over his face and listening patiently, the awkwardness already disappearing. Blaine was still Blaine and Kurt adored him. No matter how obnoxiously rich his family might be.

"Grandpa and I were going to travel after I finished high school. He wanted me to see the world before college. Before I had to grow up, he used to say." Blaine trailed off, lost in memories.

"Did you?" Kurt prompted curiously.

Blaine shook his head. "He passed away before I graduated."

"I'm so sorry." Kurt felt the pain of Blaine's loss.

"Thanks. I miss him." Blaine smiled sadly. "He left me enough to travel, like we'd planned, and pay for college, and support myself through the starving artist period. He wanted me to follow my dreams, without actually starving."

"You didn't travel?" Kurt asked again, puzzled.

"I couldn't bring myself to go alone. The money's still there, managed by the firm that handled Grandpa's investments when he was alive, and I take a quarterly stipend." Blaine stroked down Kurt's smooth back and looked into eyes full of compassion. "I  _would_  like to travel someday. With someone I love."

Kurt smiled gently. He knew Blaine was hurting. "Your grandfather sounds wonderful."

"He was. He would have loved you."

"Thank you. I think you and my father would like each other too." Kurt trailed a finger across his boyfriend's broad chest, not quite meeting his eyes.

Blaine's mouth opened and closed a few times before he could remember how to make words. "I'd love to meet him."

Meeting the family. Huge step. Hugely scary step. What if Kurt's dad  _didn't_  like him? He wrapped his arms tighter around Kurt's waist, silently daring anyone to try taking him away.

"I'm glad. Because I'm sure he'll insist on it, once I tell him we're living together." Kurt grinned mischievously. "Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?"

_Speak. Speak, damn you._

**~*~**

There wasn't time to inventory his entire wardrobe and put together the perfect ensemble, so he just threw something on. For Kurt that meant a gorgeous, plum, Dolce & Gabbana long-sleeved shirt with deep cuffs that buttoned half-way up his forearms, paired with virgin-wool, flat-front trousers by Givenchy. One of his favorite pair, the pants were indigo blue with subtle lavender pinstripes, and they clung provocatively to every line and curve, making his legs look about a mile long. A black, Versace, embossed leather belt and matching low-profile shoes with round faux buckles complemented the slim-fit pants, further emphasizing his legginess. And completing the look was one of his treasured Alexander McQueen skull scarves, in white and cerulean for contrast. He knotted it low to allow the open double-button collar of his shirt to show, exposing the milky white skin of his throat, too long hidden by neckties.

It felt blissful to be adorned in such fabulous clothing again, even if he was playing mix-and-match with four designers. He could excuse himself this time, because it was a bliss he'd experienced far too little of since he'd gone into hiding. He fluffed his hair and checked his ass one last time before going to the living room, where Blaine waited, unsuspecting.

Curiosity kept him occupied after Kurt shooed him out of the bedroom and shut the door. He wandered through the apartment, looking at everything. The modern décor fit his boyfriend perfectly, being stylish and bright. It was also neat and uncluttered, giving the illusion of space to small rooms, and everywhere were homey little touches that made Blaine smile. Soon, Kurt would put those touches on their apartment.  _Our apartment._  He loved saying that. Or thinking it.  _Our apartment._

He marveled that this man had been right under his nose for so long. It was terrifying to think he might have changed jobs at any time and never known the real Kurt. His disguise had certainly been effective in Blaine's case. He'd dressed like an uptight house frau, and Blaine had thought that's what he was, completely overlooking the contradictions. The uninhibited performances onstage should have been a clue. A big, flashing, neon sign of a clue. With cartoon sound effects. Uptight people are not scene stealing, hilarity instilling, unabashed and utterly convincing actors. Blaine mentally face-palmed.  _Cross detective off the list of things I might be when I grow up._

He'd browsed through a bookcase and was lounging on the sofa, flipping through last year's September  _Vogue_  when the bedroom door opened. He looked up, smiling spontaneously. And then his boyfriend, not for the first time, or the last, proceeded to turn his brain into mush, leaving his internal organs to duke it out amongst themselves.

He strutted down the hall, his own personal catwalk. Freedom! That was the overarching sensation. And it didn't hurt that he had someone to dress for now, in addition to himself. Someone who would love his clothes, while wanting to rip them off. Kurt knew he'd have to explain the rules he'd been lax on so far.  _Ripping is a no-no._

When he got to the living room, he slowed his movements, preparing to leave. He bent forward to pick up his things from the coffee table, and walked back and forth to switch off the few lamps they'd lit, turning to look around the room, ensuring he didn't forget anything and thoughtfully giving his gaping boyfriend time to drag his wide-eyed stare all over Kurt's lusciousness. When, at last, he deemed his entrance complete, Kurt spun toward Blaine, all modest face and innocent eyes. "Ready, sweetheart?"

"Hnngh," said Blaine.

**~*~**

Blaine walked onto the stage, where many of the cast and crew were already assembled. His boyfriend had gone to his workroom first, to avoid the appearance of arriving together. So, he went downstage to chat with Maggie while they waited for the director.

It was a Big House tradition to gather like this on the day following an opening night. Michael would then read their reviews from the newspapers everyone would have avoided that day, and they'd all celebrate – or commiserate – together. To Blaine's knowledge, they hadn't received any truly scathing reviews in the past year. Still, it was always a nerve-wracking experience.

Kurt checked his messages, humming to himself while he killed a few minutes. When footsteps approached he looked up, expecting to see Brittany and finding Sue instead. Her gaze flicked over his outfit with subtle approval and his eyes shone brightly. "Good morning, Sue."

"Porcelain," she greeted and glanced around as though searching for someone. "Where is–"

"Blaine's already onstage," he blurted cheerfully, dripping with excess energy.

As soon as the words spilled out of his mouth he knew he might as well have announced their relationship. A quick look confirmed no one else was around. Anyway, he felt confident she already knew and his giddiness was too deeply entrenched to allow for little things like worry. Being in love suited him quite nicely, thank you.

"Blaine?" Sue repeated without comprehension.

"Anderson. Sorry." Kurt grinned.

"Oh yes, the patient. I noticed he recovered in time for opening night. Entirely your doing, no doubt. I hope he was sufficiently grateful."

Kurt bit his lip to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. He had little control over the way he was bouncing in place. "You could say that." He was fighting back laughter and ready to burst if he didn't tell someone soon. "He asked me to move in with him!" Kurt squealed with excitement. "No one else knows about us, though. So, please, mum's the word."

"I'll try to control myself," she replied in her usual sardonic monotone. "I guess I don't have to ask if you agreed." Her gaze touched meaningfully on his clothes again. "It's good to have you back."

Kurt twirled in an adorably unnecessary pirouette. "Thank you," he chirped. "It's good to  _be_  back. He makes me so happy," Kurt sighed. "And I owe it all to you." He opened his arms to hug her and she held up a staying hand.

"Cool your jets there, grabby. I've reached my hug quota for the year."

Kurt laughed and hugged himself instead. "Okay, no hugs, for now. How can I repay you then? Would you like a custom Hummel gown for your next formal occasion? Or will you come over for dinner one evening? I happen to be an excellent cook," he bragged shamelessly.

"Would Anderson be there?" she asked darkly.

"Of course." He grinned again. "Did I mention that we live together now?" He did a few bouncy half-twirls, spinning his hips left and right without taking his eyes off of Sue. "I've never lived with anyone before."

"I wouldn't have guessed." Sue remained stoic while Kurt flitted like a hummingbird on Ritalin. "I suppose a gown might be useful for those infernal parties. As long as you bill me for the materials." She pointed her glasses at him and he knew she meant business, which helped him remember that this was his workplace and no, no, he was  _not_  a ballerina.

"Of course. I'll start working up some sketches. You'll outshine everyone at the next after-party." Kurt ceased his fluttering and smiled warmly at his boss.

"Nothing frilly," she warned.

"Got it. Simplicity. You want something with some slink." He put a hand on his hip, striking a slinky pose.

"Slink?" She frowned, as if unsure whether that was better than frills.

"It's a line from... Never mind. Not important. I should get out there. Michael's probably about to start."

**~*~**

They stood downstage, Kurt fidgeting between Maggie and Blaine, always antsy before the reading of the reviews. He felt Maggie take his hand, clearly nervous too, though she'd forgotten the stress long enough to gush over his outfit when he joined them. Blaine, on the other hand, looked awfully relaxed. Kurt glared at him and he just chuckled.

"How can you be so calm," Kurt hissed.

Blaine took in his and Maggie's frazzled appearances. "What good does it do to panic? We did our best last night. If the critics didn't like it, they didn't like it. You can't please all of the people all of the time."

That concept was foreign to Kurt, the people pleaser. "You can try," he retorted.

A rattling sound drew all eyes front, where Michael was shaking open a newspaper. After a tense few seconds while he skimmed a page, he found and read the short blurb on their performance. They sighed en masse at the critic's kind words, though he ended on a sour note about the wait at the ticket window. Many critics seemed to feel they weren't doing their job if they didn't knock something.

The other small papers were similarly positive, and the group sported lots of smiling faces. Tension returned, however, when Michael picked up the final, and most important paper,  _The New York Times_. The room was silent while he flipped to the theater reviews and scanned the page, shaking out the paper again when he found it. Maggie squeezed Kurt's hand and he squeezed right back.

" _Twelfth Night_ : Shakespeare?" Michael read aloud. "The words remain the same. That is to say nearly incomprehensible, equating to modern English just enough to keep us following along with gentle nudges from the cast. However, for the first time in my experience with  _Twelfth Night_ , I found myself empathizing with the lovely Olivia and her biting wit, as Orsino, played by Blaine Anderson, made a complete ass of himself and, consequently, became unexpectedly likable."

Blaine was gobsmacked and Kurt couldn't have been more excited if it was his name in  _The Times_. He screeched and flung himself at Blaine, who caught him instinctively and swung him in a circle, his shout of laughter cut short by Kurt's enthusiastic kiss.

Kurt pulled away from his mouth only to hug him more tightly, arms in a stranglehold around Blaine's neck as he was lowered back to the floor. It was then they noticed how quiet the stage had become. They glanced around at their friends, who stared back in various stages of surprise and amusement. Kurt blushed furiously and tried to step back, failing to move anywhere when Blaine's hold tightened.

The awkward silence was broken a few seconds later when one of the cast turned to the guy next to him and said, "You owe me five bucks."

A smattering of laughter broke out and Blaine took the opportunity to speak to the room. "Everyone congratulate me," he called out, "for landing the hottest boyfriend in New York!" Then he turned to say into Kurt's ear, "Actually anywhere, but they don't need to know yet how hard I've fallen."

The sudden change on Kurt's face from flushing with embarrassment to blushing prettily with happiness got everyone talking at once and stepping forward to congratulate the couple. Maggie was pulling Kurt in for a quick hug when there was a deafening squeal stage-right.

Brittany ran over to grab Kurt's hands and hop up and down in front of him. "I did it! I did it!" she shrieked. "Kurt has a boyfriend!" She paused the hopping to ask in her comical stage whisper, "Did he really kiss you in front of everyone?"

Blaine leaned in to reply at an equal volume, "He really did." He helpfully demonstrated what she'd missed, turning Kurt and capturing his mouth in a long, searing kiss. A minute or so later is was Blaine who tried to pull back, and failed. Kurt's arms were tight around his neck again and one knee was brushing up along Blaine's outer thigh, a leg getting ready to wrap around him; and okay, maybe Blaine wasn't trying all that hard to get away.

Eventually, though, he did peel Kurt off, with a slight smacking sound of suctioned lips. Looking into glazed, dark blue eyes afterward, it occurred to Blaine that maybe he should have toned it down for their audience.  _Live and learn._

Sighs could be heard from most of the women – and a few men. Kurt didn't seem to notice, fixated on Blaine's mouth until Brittany spun him toward her.

"Wow, that was hot," she said, sounding breathy. Several others nodded dumbly.

A noise of agreement came from Kurt and he mumbled something that sounded a bit like 'nympho.' Blaine couldn't be sure. As for himself, he was ecstatic to have their relationship out in the open and still see smiles all around. Until, as Brittany and Maggie dragged Kurt away, presumably to extract every morsel of information they could get from him, Blaine caught a look from Michael that was less than thrilled. He left the stage to speak to the director alone.

The lack of enthusiasm wasn't completely unexpected and wouldn't deter Blaine. "Michael," he began and ended, unsure what to say.

"Blaine," Michael replied, waiting.

"I'm sorry about that." He decided on a straightforward approach. "We didn't mean for everyone to find out that way. I wanted to tell you myself, before we went public. It won't affect our work. We've already had that discussion." There was no response and his face tightened with resolve. "I'm not going to stop seeing him," Blaine flatly informed him.

"Your personal life is your business." Michael held up a hand to ward off Blaine's defensiveness, his tone ambivalent. "Kurt's a great guy."

"But?"

"I hope you'll give me a heads up if this starts to go south and I have to put out feelers for a new leading man."

Blaine found it interesting that Michael took it for granted he'd be the one to quit. Unless he was alluding to one of them being fired.  _Huh. Well, at least I know where I stand._  "To be honest, I don't really see this going south, but you'll be the first to know."

"How long have you been together?" Michael asked dryly.

"Um. Almost a month." Okay, put like that, maybe it seemed a tad ludicrous that he was so confident. That didn't make it any less true. Other people wouldn't understand.

The director looked distinctly unimpressed. "Just promise me there won't be any drama around here. Unscripted drama," he qualified.

**~*~**

Jack waved him down before Blaine could go looking for Kurt and he wasn't surprised to hear Sue wanted to see him at his convenience, which, in Sue speak, meant now.

He peeked around the doorjamb, checking that there were no burly relatives in her office, and she waved him to the chair he'd occupied on his one other, highly memorable visit. Seeing that they were alone, he focused on Sue, who looked perfectly capable of ending his existence all by herself. She was once again using the (very effective) tactic of staring him down until he squirmed.

"I know what you're going to say," he blurted, startling himself. She didn't reply. Simply kept him pinned to the chair with her inscrutable gaze.

"Kurt and I should have told you about us," Blaine jumped in again. "He thinks you already knew, but I still should have talked to you. You're the closest thing he has to family in this city." No reaction. "Kurt wanted–  _we_ , I mean– we wanted to keep our relationship private for a while, to make sure it wouldn't affect our jobs." Silence.

"I know he's important to you," Blaine labored on, "and to the theater. Neither of us would do anything to jeopardize that. I told him up front I'd quit if things didn't work out, so there'd be no awkwardness for him here. Things  _are_  working out, though. Things are spectacular, in fact. He's spectacular."

Blaine became mulish in the face of her continued silence. "If you want to fire me, go ahead, but we're not breaking up. I love him. I won't let anything come between us."  _Some kind of response would be nice. Yell at me. Threaten me. Say something, lady._ "I'd never do anything to hurt him, if that's what you're worried about. No need for taxidermy or concrete shoes. Or cas– castration." He swallowed hard just saying that word. "I think he'd rather have me in one piece."

"I certainly would," Kurt butted in from the doorway.

Blaine's head jerked around and he went limp with relief, which he chose not to dwell on. "Hey. How long have you been there?"

"Since 'things are spectacular.'" Kurt grinned, unrepentant.

"Eavesdropper," Blaine accused with a smile.

"Guilty. And I love you too." He turned to Sue. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Not at all," she answered pleasantly. "I merely wanted to congratulate Anderson on the  _Times_  review... Nice work," she said to Blaine, somehow managing to make it sound like 'Dumb luck.' "Did you need something, Porcelain?"

"Yes." He looked at Blaine. "Michael wants us onstage when you're done; he has some notes from last night. Then we need to get into costume. Matinee in an hour."

"Be right there," said Blaine. His eyes were soft and a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"Okay." Kurt blew him a kiss and, with a little wave for Sue, went back the way he'd come.

Blaine watched him leave.

Sue watched Blaine watch him leave.

When Kurt was out of sight, Blaine turned back to her. "You didn't really call me in here to congratulate me, did you?"

She stood and came around the desk. "I'm glad we understand each other." She held out a hand. "Welcome to the family, Anderson."

He got to his feet and shook her hand, smiling. "You can call me Blaine," he offered as they walked out of her office together.

"No, I can't," she scoffed. "That name is too stupid to say out loud. Instead, I'll allow you to choose from the following nicknames: Triangles, Larry or Little Miss Marker."

He squinted, thinking. "Shirley Temple reference?" he asked.

"You got it."

Blaine looked thoughtful again. "Could I have Miss Marker, without the Little?"

"Depends on my mood," she said, though he took it as a good sign when her lips quirked.

"I can live with that."

"So, Miss Marker," she said conversationally as they neared the stage. "Have I told you about my cousin, the minister?"

 **~*~**  
Epilogue  
~*~

Kurt stared in shock. He could not be seeing what he was seeing.

Standing next to him was Sue, dressed in a stunning, slinky, blue evening gown for the  _Romeo & Juliet_ closing-night wrap party. She followed Kurt's line of sight. "Who is that person?"

"That," he said, blowing out a breath, "is someone I've never met, yet who has the distinction of being the only person I've ever almost hit." He forced himself to stop gaping unattractively at Ethan, lurking just offstage, attempting to look inconspicuous. Kurt deduced he must be scoping out the crowd for the most likely suckers.

Sue crooked her fingers at Jack, who appeared promptly by her side, and addressed Kurt again. "Would you like him gone?" she asked. And from her deadly calm tone, Kurt thought it was a toss-up whether she meant to have him thrown out of the theater or into the river.

After a little thought, a determined, and slightly devious look crossed his face. "Not yet. I'll let you know when. Jack, I want you to do something for me, please."

While Jack went to deliver a message to Blaine, Kurt found Maggie and quickly filled her in. Or actually not so much filled in as begged a favor of. By this time, Ethan had a drink in hand and was casually moving through the crowd, looking for all the world like he belonged. So despite some puzzlement and a host of questions that would have to wait until later, Maggie agreed to her friend's hasty request to go along with whatever he said and not mention Blaine to someone she didn't remember. She'd have to take Kurt's word for it that they'd met.

"Maggie!" Ethan cried. He approached as if they were old friends and it was such a pleasant surprise to see her there.

"Yes?" she answered with polite disinterest.

Ethan's mask stayed firmly in place and Kurt had to admire the chutzpah. Maybe he crashed parties regularly and was accustomed to such cold receptions. Whatever else he might be – and Kurt could supply many adjectives – he also seemed to be an adequate actor.

"Ethan," he reintroduced himself with a cute, winsome smile. Kurt really didn't like Ethan. "We met at another party here not long ago." He waved at the air, body language relaying what a colossal bore it was to have to attend so many of these functions.

"Ethan," she repeated without a hint of familiarity, then gestured to Kurt, who planned to cook her a fabulous meal at the first opportunity. "Do you know Kurt, our wonderful Romeo?" She smiled brilliantly at her co-lead. "I'm going to miss being your Juliet."

"Nice to meet you, Kurt." Ethan made the innocuous words sound like an invitation, his warm gaze caressing Kurt's face.

"Hello, Ethan." Kurt shook his cold, limp hand, then crossed his arms, surreptitiously wiping his palm on his sleeve.

"Haven't I seen you in something else?" Ethan asked, with a distinct lack of imagination, in Kurt's opinion.

He didn't react to the generic question that, he supposed, was meant to sound flattering. It badly missed its mark. "I don't know," Kurt replied with a bland smile. "Have you?"

"Uh–" their uninvited guest finally stammered, glancing to Maggie for help.

She took pity on him, unknowingly guaranteeing that her home-cooked meal would be a little less fabulous. "Kurt has been at the Big House for quite a while," she told Ethan. "Odds are you've seen him if you frequent this theater."

"That explains it!" Ethan exclaimed. "I must have seen you in an older production. I haven't been to this theater in ages," he lied. Then caught his slip when two sets of eyes narrowed at him. "Except that one time, of course, a few months ago," he backpedaled. "Can't remember what play it was. I see so many, you know," he claimed, digging his hole deeper and deeper, to Kurt's delight.

Kurt and Maggie let him ramble for a few minutes, asking difficult questions about all the many plays he'd been fortunate enough to attend. And when he paused, Kurt tossed him a new shovel with which to dig. "What do you do, Ethan?" he asked.

"I'm an actor," Ethan proudly declared.

"An actor!" Kurt feigned excitement at something so rare as meeting an actor. In a theater. In New York City. "Did you hear that, Maggie? He's one of us!"

"I heard." She looked away from Ethan, snorting at Kurt's antics.

"Are you in anything now?" Kurt put the slightly confused taller man on the spot again.

He sniffed importantly. "I'm between projects."

"We've all been there," was Kurt's sage reply. "Oh, look." He lit up with a sudden, brilliant idea. "There's Sue. Do you know Sue?" Kurt waited until Ethan shook his head. "She owns the theater." He could almost hear the wheels turning in Ethan's mind, and he definitely saw the triumphant spark in his eyes, quickly hidden.

"I'd love to meet her." Ethan gave him a greasy smile. "Then maybe you and I could go get a drink somewhere."

Kurt's gaze dropped to the glass in Ethan's hand.

"Somewhere quiet," he amended, letting his voice drop to a more intimate level, blatantly insinuating that Kurt's bedroom might be quiet.

Kurt refrained from rolling his eyes, quickly tiring of this game. "I'll introduce you, then. Unless this is a bad time?" he asked with baby-faced innocence, ignoring Maggie's muffled sniggering.

"Now would be fantastic," Ethan smirked.

Sliding a discreet glance toward Blaine, who was watching the exchange closely from across the room, Kurt gave him the barest nod before leading Ethan away.

"Sue, there's someone here who'd like to meet you," Kurt said as they walked up to her. "This is Ethan."

She looked down her nose at the stranger and raised an imperious brow.

"Lovely to meet you, Sue." He poured on the charm, to no purpose whatsoever.

"I'm sure it is," she replied haughtily. "Who are you here with? I thought I knew everyone who was invited tonight." She placed a slight emphasis on 'invited.'

He glanced quickly at Kurt, who tilted his head, waiting curiously for the answer.

And Blaine chose that moment to join them, wrapping possessive arms around Kurt from the side and pressing warm lips to his cheek. Kurt turned his head, giving his unsubtle boyfriend a loving smile and slow kiss, gently tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Ready to go home, love?" Blaine asked softly, yet not so quietly that those nearby couldn't make out every word.

"In a minute, honey," Kurt replied. "Look who's here." He tipped his head toward Ethan.

Blaine looked to the side, not letting go of Kurt for a moment. "Ethan. What a surprise," he sighed, his sarcasm palpable. "Crashing again?"

"Oh, honey, be nice." Kurt poked him tenderly. "He was just about to tell us what he's doing here. Isn't that right, Ethan?"

"I... Uh..."

Sue looked at her assistant, who'd had the good sense to stay close. "Jack, please make sure the doorman sees me tomorrow," she instructed. Jack nodded, and all eyes returned to Ethan, whose startled gaze darted from person to person. "Do you need someone to show you out?" Sue's dry question cut the silence when he just stared at them all stupidly.

**~*~**

"Blaine, Blaine, Blaine," Kurt gasped. His hands clutched at the firm body beneath him, which rose rhythmically to meet Kurt, straddling his lover, riding him. Blaine's teeth were clenched, one hand grasping Kurt's hip, the other wrapped around his shaft, and his knees were bent to give him more power behind every thrust.

"Kurt! So good," he gritted out.

Kurt's lust-glazed eyes took in the heated skin of his lover's beautiful face. Blaine's teeth caught and trapped a swollen lip and Kurt fell forward to rescue it with his own teeth, sucking it into his mouth.

"Mmph," Blaine groaned. His hips snapped upward and his mouth opened under Kurt's. He tightened his fist, twisting it around the leaking cock, swiping his thumb across the silky tip and spreading the drops of moisture before his hand jerked rapidly up and down.

Kurt's head yanked back and he cried out. The pit of heat flared in his stomach and he tingled all over. He braced his hands on the bed on either side of Blaine's head and rode faster. Harder. Fucking down onto his hard length and up into his fist. "Oh– oh– ohhhh, Blaine!" The world went black, but for the stars bursting behind his eyelids. His body quaked and he covered Blaine's fist and chest with his come, collapsing on top of him when his arms and legs refused to hold him up any longer.

Two hands grabbed his hips and he was flipped onto his back. Kurt gasped, his muscles still twitching, every stroke intensified as Blaine pounded into him, hammering him into the mattress. His oversensitive cock tried valiantly, and in vain, to harden again at the fantastic, desperate thrusting. A stroke across his prostate had him arching high, lifting them both before Blaine's weight pushed down on him again. His lover's mouth was open on his shoulder and Kurt could hear him panting with effort while his body instinctively sought the release it needed. He put his lips against Blaine's ear, whispering to him how good it was, how much he loved the hard cock filling him, begging to be fucked until whimpers escaped his lover's lips, every thrust bringing him closer and closer to blessed oblivion. Kurt brushed his tongue over the shell of Blaine's ear and felt strong teeth sink into his shoulder. He sucked in a sharp breath and retaliated by licking again, pushing his tongue deeper. Driving the pointed tip of his hot tongue just inside and swirling it around was enough to make Blaine yell out his climax, coming deep inside him.

**~*~**

"God, Kurt, Baby, you're unbelievable," Blaine panted and gently withdrew, then stiffened at the sound of his own voice. "Shit. I'm not supposed to call you that. I'm sorry." Blaine held him tighter, kissing his neck in apology.

"It's okay." Kurt stroked his back. He loved it so much when Blaine lay on top of him, their bodies pressed tightly together from head to toe.

"What?" Blaine craned his neck back to look at his lover, his brow furrowed. "You mean you're letting me get away with it?" He made a concerned face and placed the backs of his fingers against Kurt's forehead.

"Don't push your luck. And yes."

"Wait. I'm confused. Are you lifting the restriction? Or are you just too tired to reprimand me right now."

Kurt fought the urge to giggle, and yes, he was far too relaxed and sated for reprimands. He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes for Blaine's entertainment. "I suppose I could allow it," he conceded, then gave his boyfriend a warning look. "Only on the condition that you're never allowed to call anyone else Baby. Ever."

"Never?"

"Unless, of course, you're speaking to an actual infant." Kurt was nothing if not reasonable.

"You mean like if I had a beautiful, perfect little daughter with big blue eyes? Then it would be okay?"

Kurt swallowed, rendered speechless for the space of several loud, thumping heartbeats. "Yes," he whispered. "That would be okay." His hands slid up Blaine's strong back to bury themselves in his hair. "Or an adorable baby boy with dark, curly hair and sweet hazel eyes."

"Or both," suggested Blaine, trailing fingers over Kurt's warm cheeks.

"Or both," Kurt agreed, pulling him down for a long, slow kiss.

There was no spooning that night. The lovers fell asleep face to face, wrapped serenely around one another, drifting off to murmured 'I love yous' and the comforting pulse of the other's heart against their fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> "Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand. I don't care, I'm still free. You can't take the sky from me." - Firefly


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